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ateezreactionsandscenarios · 1 year

Text

Let me show you.

Pairing: Kang Yeosang x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

CW: Reader’s first time, fingering (F receiving), protected sex, praise.

Word Count: 3826

Summary: You were envious of your best friend’s colourful sex life since yours was non existent. The frustration of being a virgin was getting to be too much, so who better to help you out than the one person you trust the most.

Part of StayTeez Trope’pril

Prompt List Series Masterlist MasterList Buy me a Coffee

Nothing sucks more than feeling like the unattractive one of the friendship group, and what makes it worse is the fact you know for sure that with the boys especially, they're not even the slightest bit innocent. How could they be when they're literally the most attractive men you've ever laid eyes on?

Especially Yeosang.

Who's been such a close friend for years, you know everything that's happened with him even if it didn't come out of his mouth. It made you so jealous, and insecure. It's saddening in your eyes that you've only ever gone as far as to kiss someone, not ever having the trust there with anyone to let it get any further. Not having trust in them and yourself, not knowing if you'd be impressive anyway.

That's all you can think about, especially when Yeosang's phone constantly pings with notifications when you're trying to focus on the game of Mario Kart but the notifications get you dangerously curious as to what's going on in his life.

"Someone's popular." You quip, nudging his shoulder lightly as his character on the game goes slightly off the track.

"What was that for, look, I'm 5th place now! And I don't want to be, I wish my phone would stop for at least an hour." He smiles back, the smile slowly fading into a slight frown as he rolls his eyes at the next notification sound to come through.

“Seriously what has your phone going off like that?”

“It’s the dating apps I haven’t used in a while, I keep getting matches and they just won’t stop messaging me.” He sighs trying to put more of his focus into the game.

“You’re on dating apps?” You scoff, you couldn’t believe a guy like him would need a dating app all he has to do is step outside and he has women falling at his feet.

“Have you had much luck dating wise from them?” His eyes widen at your question and his cheeks flush with a light shade of pink.

“Umm...Well...” He’s trying to find the most vague way to describe it to you but he couldn’t think of anything other than the blunt truth.

“Put it this way...I don’t use them for dating.”

“Well if you don’t use them for dating why do you have them?” He clears his throat before answering you.

“I use them to get laid, it’s a lot easier than going to a club, but like I said I haven’t been on them in a while.”

“It’s that easy?” You ask scoffing again.

“I guess so, I just swiped for a few hours a day and matches were made.”

“You didn’t think you could potentially date any of these girls?”

“Nah, I was looking for girls who were just up for a fling, a one night stand.” You were quiet after listening to him explain, your insecurities coming back. He made it sound so easy like all you had to do was push a few buttons and there you go, a new girl in your bed every week. But you knew it wasn’t that simple, Yeosang was gifted with a pretty face, smooth voice and sweet mannerisms, but you on the other hand was awkward and couldn’t help but stutter when a cute guy spoke to you, if they spoke to you that is.

The sadness was weighing down on you and you started to loose focus in the game, your character dropping from 1st to 7th quickly. Yeosang noticed how you weren’t playing so well and looked over to you, seeing the melancholy look on your face.

“What’s up?” He asked, giving your shoulder a little bump with his but gaining no answer from you. Nudging you again and with still no answer he puts his controller down and sits facing you.

“Yeo you’re gonna lose if you don’t move.” You say quietly, trying to will your focus back into the game.

“I don’t care, tell me what’s up, you’re all quiet and glum now.”

“It’s nothing.” You answer simply, but unlucky for you Yeosang knows you like the back of his hand, he knew it wasn’t nothing. Pausing the game he takes your controller from your hand and sets it down next to his. You look up at him confused and he grabs the sides of your legs to move you to face him.

“Y/n, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Look it’s really stupid, it’s nothing you need to worry about, I’ll be fine.” You stress, leaning forward to get your controller but Yeosang beats you to it, snatching up both controllers and holding them away from you and giving you a warning look.

“Okay fine, I guess I’m just a little jealous about how exciting your sex life is.” You pout as he gives you a small giggle.

“Told you it was stupid.”

“No, it’s not stupid, why are you so jealous anyway it’s not like it’s a big deal?” He says, his chuckles fading away but his smile still present on his face.

“I’m just so envious that you can sleep with any girl you want and it’s as easy as blinking for you and then there’s me, still a virgin and I can’t even get a guy to look at me let alone fucking sleep with me.” His smile drops and his face forms a more shocked expression.

“What?” You ask, hissing slightly feeling a little annoyed.

“I didn’t know you were still a virgin.” He responds, eyes still wide with shock as you groan at him.

“Well it’s not exactly something I advertise and you being shocked doesn’t really help.” You whine hiding your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry, I just thought you’d lost it ages ago, to that guy....what’s his name?”

“Felix? Yeah, that didn’t last long, I didn’t even kiss him.” Yeosang shuffles closer to you slightly, his full attention on you now.

“You don’t have to answer this but how far have you gone with a guy?” You’re cheeks heat up from the question, if anyone else had asked you, you’d have flat out refused to say, but this was Yeosang, the one you trusted with your life.

“I’ve only ever kissed someone.”

“Is there something stopping you from sleeping with anyone or are you just not ready yet?” His tone is soft, he doesn’t mean to poke his nose into your personal business but he can see it’s bothering you so he wanted to help in anyway he could.

“I just haven’t trusted anyone enough. Having sex makes you vulnerable to the other person and while I’ve been attracted to some guys I haven’t had that full trust with them to become that level of vulnerable with them. I’m just annoyed at myself at this point, I just want to know what all the hype is about and why everyone praises sex so much.” You sigh. Getting it out in the open was like a weight was being lifted off your shoulders, but that still didn’t change the fact you were still frustrated.

“Is there someone you can think of you trust in that way?” Yeosang asks, curiosity getting the better of him. You stay quiet, you have a name in mind but you couldn’t find it in you to say.

“Do you trust me?” His tone perked up, almost like he was joking.

“Yeo, you know I trust you with my life, you don’t need to ask that.”

“Well if you trust me that much then maybe you’d let me help you out?” His question was a serious one but his face and tone donning an air of playfulness so not to overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable. Your eyes widened as you brought your head up to look at him, you couldn’t tell if he was being serious or if he was playing so you keep quiet.

“You said you trust me right?” You nod in reply. “So in all seriousness I’m offering to help you out, I promise you I won’t judge, laugh, make jokes, none of that and if you agree we’ll only go as far as you’re comfortable with, you tell me to stop and I’ll stop instantly.”

“Yeo...I can’t ask you to do that.” You say hesitantly.

“You’re not asking me anything y/n, I’m offering. If it’s not what you want then just tell me no and we’ll leave it here and not talk about it again.” His tone was more serious and hands were on yours, his warmth comforting you as you thought about it.

You had to admit to yourself the thought had crossed your mind on many occasions. Yeosang was the type of guy you thought only existed in books, but here he was sat in front of you, your best friend, offering to be your first. There was a war going on in your head as you thought over the options. Option one was you let him be your first and then run the risk of potentially fucking up your friendship, option two was you tell him no and you stay a frustrated virgin.

“Okay.” You say with a shaky breath and so quietly he didn’t know if he heard you correctly.

“Hmm?”

“Okay. I trust you and I know you’ll look after me.” You couldn’t hide your nervousness and Yeosang could see that so it was only right he took things extra slow with you.

“Is now okay with you or do you want to pick a day, give yourself time to mentally prepare, I don’t want you to feel rushed is all.”

“No it’s okay, now is good, I’m just...nervous.” He gave you a small smile before inching himself closer to you until his knees were against yours, his hands squeezing yours a little tighter.

“It’s okay, I’ll go slow...can I kiss you first?” Your breath hitched in your throat, this was really happening, what was meant to be a normal game day with you best friend has now turned into this. You give a small nod, not daring to look him in the eye out of seer embarrassment. He gives a low sigh and uses a finger to turn your head to face him.

“I need you to tell me, I won’t do anything until you tell me with words that it’s okay.”

“You can kiss me.” You say shyly. He gave you a warm smile as he held your face in his hand slowly bringing you closer to him. He kissed you softly, his lips barely grazing yours and you couldn’t fight the little smile that spread across your face.

“Yeo.” You say pulling back with a giggle. “I’ve kissed before and I’m not made of glass.” He gave you a small wide eyed nod before pulling you back in kissing you properly this time. His lips moulded and moved perfectly with yours, guiding you to match his rhythm. You don’t know why but kissing Yeosang felt right, it was comfortable and you started to wonder why you hadn’t done this a lot sooner.

You felt him deepen the kiss, his pace picking up and his tongue lightly grazing your bottom lip, the small gasp you let out was enough for him to slip his tongue inside, his hand moving to the back of your head to hold you closer. He felt himself get carried away but there seemed to be no objection from you so he carried on.

His hands gripped your waist and guided you further up the bed to lay you down comfortably, only pulling away from the kiss for a brief moment to ask of you were okay. With a positive response and a small smile from you he stepped it up a notch. His hands wandered under your shirt slowly, his hands on your bare waist felt hot to the touch and heat slowly pooled at your core, but that didn't stop you feeling nervous.

"Can I take this off?" He asked against your lips. You gave him a shaky nod of your head but he gave you the look that screamed he wasn't happy with the answer.

"Yes." You whisper making him smile.

"That's better." He slowly peeled your shirt over your head but your arms flew up to cover your chest. This was the barest you'd been around Yeosang and you didn't know how you felt about it.

"Hey, it's okay, would this help?" He sits up slightly and removes his own shirt, throwing it off the bed to join yours on the floor.

"We're even now." He smiles and it did indeed make you feel more comfortable. He kissed you again to take your mind off of things, meanwhile he moved himself to slot between your legs and you gasp lightly at the feeling of his erection brushing against your clothed core. It was impossible to hide the smirk that grew on his face at your reaction, his hands slipping underneath you to grab your ass and pull you against him even more.

"Can I take these off too?" He asks again, pulling lightly at the waistband of your sweatpants. You grant him permission and his lips are away from you completely, sitting back in his heels as he once again slowly peels your clothing from you, his eyes never leaving yours like he was waiting for you to stop him. With your sweatpants gone he makes quick work of his own to make it even again and you smile, happy he was doing that to keep you comfortable.

"So soaked already." He coos but before he could kiss you again your hands were over your face, hiding how you were blushing so hard with embarrassment.

"Yeoo!"

"Hey," He starts, lightly pulling your hands away from your face. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about, it's normal and it tells me I'm doing something right, okay?"

He trails kisses down your neck and collar only moving more and more down, his eyes flick up to you every now and again just to be sure. Stopping at the band of your panties he asks again if it was okay. Now the nerves were setting in and you couldn’t form a response straight away.

“I can move them to the side for now if it makes you feel better, they don’t need to come off yet if you don’t want them to.” You agree to that, the thought of at least having something on your lower half for now making the anxiety more bearable.

“Do you want my mouth or fingers baby?” The question made your eyes shoot open wide, you weren’t expecting him to ask what you wanted, you thought he’d take the lead and do what he’s used to, but no, he wanted your input and these were questions you didn’t really have an answer for.

“What?”

“Do you want me to use my mouth or my fingers?” He asked again, hovering himself over you so he could make proper eye contact. His hands stroked the inside of your thighs as he waited for your answer, the sensation making goose bumps cover your skin.

“Umm...Fingers.” You finally say and he lowers himself on top of you with a smile.

“Fingers it is.” His fingers ghost their way along your slit, collecting your wetness on his fingertips making a shaky breath pass your lips. His lips make themselves busy, peppering light kisses along your cheeks and nose, slightly distracting you from the way the pressure of his figures increased when they find your clit.

Your body reacted just they way he wanted it to when he circled his fingers around your bud, your hips moving to meet his movements, breathy whines leaving your mouth and your eyes fluttered closed from pleasure. He could feel himself growing harder and harder from every small noise you made, but he had to wait for now, right now this was all about you.

““Are you okay?” He whispered against your cheek.

“Feels nice.” Was all you could get yourself to say, your breath hitching every time he brushed over a certain spot. Yeosang teased a finger at your entrance, glancing at you trying to read your responses to his touch, with no warning signs from you he proceeded to slip a finger inside. You gasp at the intrusion and Yeosang moves to kiss you again, kissing you though every movement.

In no time he had you moaning into his mouth and slipped another finger into you, scissoring you open making sure you were properly prepped for later. His fingers curl up into your sweet spot and he smiles as he feels your walls flutter around him.

“Right here?” He asks slightly teasingly and you nod, the sensation being too much for you to form even a word of response. His hands speed up making sure to repeatedly hit the spot that had you moaning louder and louder against his lips.

A knot started to form in your stomach, an unfamiliar feeling to you but you welcomed it anyway. Your breathing got heavier and your walls were clenching around Yeosang’s fingers more and more as he drove you closer to your high.

“That’s it.” He encourages. “Just let it go baby, just let it go.” With a few more thrusts of his fingers he had your legs shaking as your orgasm hit you, pulling you in for a deep kiss, kissing you through the whole thing as he slows down his ministrations making sure to help you ride it out.

Coming back to your senses you’re met with Yeosang’s bright smile, his eyes taking in your fucked out state, smiling through the discomfort his erection was now giving him from being confined for so long.

“How was that? Are you okay?” You couldn’t find the words to tell him how you felt but your face said it all to him, you were on cloud 9 right now and your anxiety had seemed to slip away.

“Do you want to keep going? We can stop if you want to.” HIs hands rubbed at your hips lightly as he waited for your answer.

“Keep going.” You breathe out finally finding your words again.

“Can I take these off you now?” His fingers play with the waistband of your now soaked panties and you grant him permission. He’s not so slow in removing the last items of clothing, your panties and his boxers flying into the pile on the floor in seconds. He leaves you for a second longer to fish out a condom from his bedside table before dropping it on the bed next to you and settling himself between your legs again.

“Are you sure about this?”

“More than ever, I trust you.” His heart swelled at that, he knew how much trust you were putting in him and it meant the world to him and he was over the moon you chose to do this with him and not some random asshole from a bar. He gives you a small nod and a peck before pulling away to put the condom on and line himself with you.

“Ready?”

“I’m ready.” Yeosang slowly pushes into you, the stretch singing slightly making you squeeze your eyes shut. He could see the discomfort on your face and peppered you with kisses again.

“You’re doing great, I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable, it’ll be over soon.” He kept talking you through it, making your mind concentrate on something else as he slowly bottomed out.

Once he was fully sheathed he stopped all movements to give you time to adjust, despite the desperate urge to keep thrusting, the tightness of you around his cock making him go insane.

“Just tell me when you’re ready.” Yeosang says biting back a groan secretly hoping you won’t take too long. To his relief it doesn’t take you long before you’re asking him to move again, your own impatience taking over.

His thrusts start off slow, helping you to ease through the discomfort until it became pleasurable for you. Once your moans picked up again and you seemed to be enjoying yourself Yeosang’s pace picked up also, gradually getting faster and faster with every thrust he gave you. Your walls so tight around him like a vice had his head spiraling as he let the overwhelming pleasure take over everything, it wasn’t until he heard a small cry from you did he snap back to reality. His eyes focusing in on you again to see discomfort on your face again and then it hit him.

“Ah shit, I’m sorry.” He groans lightly slowing down his thrusts. “I got a little carried away there, am I hurting you?”

“No...I’m okay.” You pant, your hands gripping his toned biceps grounding yourself.

Wrapping your legs around his waist and lifting your hips slightly Yeosang was able to thrust into you deeper, hitting your sweet spot again making you cry out.

“I’m sorry I...”

“No...Keep going...please.” You beg, the knot forming in your stomach again ready to snap at any moment. Your fingers dug into his arms leaving small crescents from your nails as you were edged closer and closer to another orgasm. Your walls were fluttering around him uncontrollably and it had his high spurring closer and closer with you.

“You’re doing so well for me, so pretty, you look and sound so pretty.” His low voice rang through your ears. Moments later Yeosang had you cumming around his cock, mouth open in silent moans and your hands gripping him even harder as your legs trembled around him before falling to the bed limp. Your orgasm caused his to hit at the same time, his muscles tensing and a low moan falling from his lips as he fucked you both through the remainder of your highs.

You let out a small whine when Yeosang pulled out from you, feeling a little sore and he floods you with apologies again. After disposing of the filled condom, Yeosang flops next to you on the bed, the room silent except from the heavy panting coming from you both.

“I can see what the hype is about now.” You chuckle still slightly out of breath making Yeosang laugh along with you.

Leaning across you to grab his phone, you can't help but look at the blinding screen of him deleting the dating apps from his phone.

"Been meaning to do that for a while." He mumbles to himself, smiling at you as he sets his phone back down.

"How come?" You flutter your eyes at him, leaning on your elbows as you look down at his smiling face.

A moment of pause appears, Yeosang's too busy looking at your face, taking in every little detail he could possibly see.

"I've got everything I need here" You eyes widen at his sudden...dare you say it...confession?

“What do you mean?” He looks at you with another sweet smile, wrapping an arm around your waist pulling you flush against him.

“You’re all I need...That’s if you feel the same too.” You could have sworn your heart swelled to twice it’s size. You press a kiss to his lips, confirming you felt the same. You were both a mess of limbs, sheets and sweat, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way, you were with the one you trusted, the one who took your virginity, your one.

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ohbo-ohno · 1 year

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Kinktober Day 13 - Size Difference

Ghost x Soap - 1.5k (on ao3)

summary: Simon and Johnny's first time together. (Johnny POV)

cw: very very light degradation (and it's affectionate)

note: i made ghost bigger than he is in game just to have a bit more fun with the prompt hehe <3

Johnny’s never been with someone bigger than him.

He’s topped before, bottomed before, been a third for a curious couple, but the one constant is that he’s always the largest man in the room. At six feet tall and with a body (and posture) built from a decade of military experience, it’s unsurprising. Even if there's a man in the room taller than him, Johnny's confidence and poise gives him a bigger presence. Outside of work, he's used to commanding attention when he steps into a room - a sometimes annoying trait that unfortunately extends to the bedroom.

He'd like to be thrown around sometimes, so what? Maybe even manhandled a bit, have someone use him like a doll. With his form and attitude he's always expected to be the one doing the manhandling, though, and more often than not the quickest way to get himself off is to just use his partner's body how he'd like.

He isn't bigger than everyone around him. In fact, he's the shortest member of the 141. Most notably, he isn’t bigger than Ghost.

No, Johnny’s Lieutenant is a mountain of a man - 6’6 if not larger, built like a brick house with a layer of fat over his muscles making every article of clothing he wears obscenely tight.

Ghost is a big man, the biggest on base. He makes Johnny feel small in a way he's never felt before, even next to men like Price. Johnny stands next to Ghost and doesn't even come up to the man's chin, it's absurd.

Sometimes, when he's gone a little too long without heading off base to pick someone up, Johnny looks at Ghost and thinks about what it would feel like to be pinned beneath all that bulk. He can tell Ghost is the type of man who would take control in bed, and the desire to just throw himself at Simon's mercy and shout do whatever you want to me! feels like it consumes all of his thoughts sometimes.

Now, held down beneath Ghost in his bed, Johnny’s sure he’s never felt quite so dwarfed in his life. Their height difference feels multiplied like this, with Johnny existing purely in Ghost's shadow and pinned down like a bug.

There isn’t an inch of him not covered by Simon. Were he on his back, Ghost’s head would block out the light entirely. As it is he can feel every point where their bodies meet - which is every point across the back of Johnny’s body, even the bottom of his feet where they push against Simon's.

He groans aloud when Ghost wraps a hand around his waist. His fingers nearly touch his fucking belly button.

God, he’s going to fuck Johnny so good. Judging by the bulge at his back, he'll be lucky if he can walk straight tomorrow morning.

Johnny grinds himself back on Ghost’s cock, moans at the sensation of naked skin rubbing on naked skin, the hard heat of man against him.

He’ll never be able to fuck someone smaller than this again, he already knows. He'll either have to beg Ghost to fuck him again (beg him again) or spend hours looking for hyperspecific body types on dating apps.

He's mourning his future sexual prospects when Ghost uses the hand on his hip to grind him back again, pushing forward and letting Johnny's cock rub against soft sheets. He moans at the sensation, leaning his head back to rest on his Lieutenant's shoulder.

“Needy, Johnny?” Ghost asks, lips hovering beside Johnny’s right ear.

“Always, sir,” he breathes back, arching his neck and whimpering when Ghost takes his invitation to suck a hickey. “Been wantin’- fuck, been wantin’ this since the day I met you, L.t.”

“That so?” A lick, a kiss, a hard bite, another kiss. He can't wait to study the bruises in the mirror tomorrow morning.

“Mmmmm,” Johnny moans, letting himself go loose and resting his cheek back on the pillow to glance over his shoulder at Simon. “Knew you’d have a fuckin’ perfect cock.”

That gets a bark of laughter from Ghost, another bite along Johnny’s shoulder. He smiles a little dopily at the playful response, continues rolling his hips slowly so there's no lull in stimulation for either of them.

“Been this horny that long?”

“Yeah,” Johnny breathes. “Can’t hardly think around you these days, can’t do much but picture your goddamn horse cock.”

“Horse cock, huh? You think you can take it all?”

Johnny scoffs a little in offense. “‘Kinda question is that? ‘Course I can take it. I’m not a fuckin’ quitter, L.t.”

That gets another laugh. “‘Course not Johnny. My mistake.”

It takes a long time for Ghost to prep Johnny. He’s a bit of a dick about it, refuses to fuck him before he crams four fingers into Johnny’s lube-soaked hole. He licks at the drool dripping from Johnny's mouth, occasionally stuffing his fingers onto his tongue and whispering filthy things in his ear.

Get 'em wet for me, love, need you nice and soaked before you even think of takin' my cock.

Like the taste, do you? My needy thing, of course you like the taste of your own arse. I shoulda known.

Spit, Johnny. Your hole's dryin' up already, can't have that. Thought you wanted me to fuck you?

Johnny squirms at the stretch of four fingers, put-out that he’s not being properly wrecked yet and starting to get properly pouty about it. “Might as well just fuckin’ fist me,” he grumbles, hands clenching tight in the sheets.

“Some other day,” Ghost brushes off, curling his fingers right into Johnny’s prostate and giving him a few firm rubs to stop his whining. It has the intended affect, leaving Johnny incapable of speech for a few moments and just drooling onto the pillow.

Thankfully, Simon's not as slow when he finally does fuck Johnny.

He doesn’t pause when he’s sinking in, keeps a steady pressure from tip to root as he seats himself fully inside.

They both let out twin moans of pleasure when he's fully seated, Johnny’s back arched so he can throw his head onto Ghost’s collarbone. He gets a hand loose around his throat, a kiss pressed to his temple.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” Ghost whispers in his ear, still as a statue.

Johnny gives himself a few moments to adjust - he really would like to walk tomorrow - but he’s always been a bit of a masochist, always enjoyed the burn of the stretch when he fucks himself on a particularly thick dildo. So he cants his hips back a little before he’s fully acclimated to the intrusion that is Ghost, smiles into the bedsheets and braces himself for the fucking of a lifetime.

He gets it. Ghost pulls out to the tip on nearly every thrust, bullies Johnny’s prostate and keeps his angle oh so perfect. He reaches around to grab Johnny’s cock at one point, makes him cry out and come in only a few strokes.

Ghost himself lasts far longer. Johnny goes limp after his orgasm, sinks boneless into the pillows and arches his back so Ghost can finish himself off. It feels so fucking good to just lay there being used, the contentment of knowing his body only exists for Ghost's pleasure something that fills him with a bone-deep satisfaction.

He fucks Johnny for at least as long as it took Johnny to get off, panting harshly above his back as he works. He sounds almost animalistic, heaving and snarling like a rabid dog.

Johnny whimpers and whines when he hits a particularly sensitive spot, gives himself the freedom to exaggerate just a tad because Ghost gives him another hickey for every sound he makes. All Johnny has to do is rest his head on folded arms and bear Simon's fucking and he gets a pretty pattern of bruises across his throat.

Simon finally buries himself to the hilt with a harsh bite to Johnny’s shoulder blade, one that feels nearly like it breaks skin. Johnny would swear he growls into the skin between his teeth, the vibration echoing right to his spent cock.

Ghost pulls out a moment later, flops to his side back beside Johnny and catches his breath.

He’s not sure if Ghost will kick him out - his L.t. certainly doesn’t seem the type to enjoy pillow talk. But he’s not sure he could move if he wanted, so he lets his eyes flutter shut and waits for Ghost to decide what he wants. He hasn't felt so relaxed in a long, long time, and he'll be damned if he won't enjoy it for as long as he can manage.

Johnny’s scooped up a moment later, his back tucked to Ghost’s front and his head beneath Ghost’s chin.

Again, he’s reminded of the sheer size of his Lieutenant. Ghost’s legs tuck up behind Johnny’s, essentially giving him a chair to sit on even though they’re horizontal. His arms are long enough that his right hand easily rests on Johnny’s left side when he’s wrapped in them, his left arm coming up to hold Johnny's shoulder back to his chest and giving him no wiggle room at all.

“I’m guessin’ you’re not kickin’ me out?” Johnny mumbles, already halfway asleep.

“Shut up,” Ghost grumbles back, throwing a leg over Johnny’s and nearly laying on top of him. He can’t hold back a snort at that, sinks back into Ghost with a hum when he gets a little squeeze around the middle in response.

#im not meant for normal vanilla sex #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #hehe #bo writes #john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #john mactavish x simon riley #soap mactavish x ghost riley #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day 13 #ghoap smut #ghostsoap smut #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #ghoap #kinktober

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luvrsux · 1 year

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𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏

❝ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒕 ❞

other chapters

➠┊word count: 5k

➠┊characters: trafalgar law, portgas d. ace, shachi, penguin, ikkaku, sabo {mentioned}

➠┊cw: ANGST, arguing, swearing, mentions use of smoking

➠┊modern au !!

𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒑

❛ you and law were dating for a while until aces party ends up ruining your relationship further down the line. after saying words you never meant, law ghosts you, leaving with you nothing but radio silence ❜

Law heard the annoyingly loud ringing of his vibrating phone to alarm him of the bright morning. He only gathered a couple hours of sleep, too little to be sustainable for the school day but that wasn't out of the ordinary. He flickered his loopy, steel eyes at what was disturbing him. With a groggy groan, he shut it off to give his ears some peace. He buried his head in his pillow to contemplate whether he should get ready to go to school or just continue rotting in bed. A slight flicker of your face passing down the public hallways flashed in his head to prevent him from getting ready even more. Law finally lived his head up before he could suffocate himself from his pillow.

“Damnit…”

If it weren’t for the sudden realization that Law had a Chemistry quiz today, he would’ve died in bed of his own thoughts. Now, he stood up straight from his bed and didn’t bother dressing up to impress. Usually, Law would take a good amount of time to get ready. Comb his hair, and put in any treatment in it to keep it in good condition. Spray on cologne and put on a fresh outfit he prepped the day before. All of that was completely turned on its own head, though. He just grabbed the nearest hoodie he could find and walked out with the jeans he slept with, too depressed to follow through with his daily routine.

On the way out to the cold outdoors, he finally scanned his eyes through any notifications he may have missed from his nighttime slumber. It was the usual; posts from Shachi, Penguin, and the rest of his group, useless notifications from apps he had, and scheduled reminders. Law exhaled and deleted all of them with a swipe. That is until he saw yours.

Your messages you’d sent that morning caught his eye. He stopped in his tracks and felt his heart sting while reading them, even before he read the actual text. Just your name on his glass screen alone was enough to make him recoil.

(F/N) - 5:55 AM

law can we please talk this out? i miss you

Law treated your messages like any other. One quick swipe and it was now eradicated from his notification list. He wasn’t proud nor alright with it. It pained him to do that movement with a single thumb, but he was still too ashamed to talk to you. The only way he was used to dealing with his emotions was by ignoring the problem. His past did quite the number on the way he perceives present relationships and friendships, but Law couldn’t find a way to fix it. Now was a crystal clear demonstration of his baggage.

You, on the other hand, sat in your car in front of the school gripping your phone with all your might. You’d never come to school this early, because who would? But you desperately wanted to see Law firsthand to finally talk to him after days of radio silence. You’d sent that text the moment you went out of your front door and yet you haven’t gotten an answer. It was apparent he was ignoring you, Law usually never took long to respond unless he was sleeping, studying, or playing. None of which were practical during this time.

You finally let go of the dry device and slouched in your driver’s seat. As time slowly crept, more cars began to pull into the driveway of the school’s premises. One of which was all too familiar. Your eyes caught a glimpse of its pull in dangerously next to you and you groaned.

“Ace, leave me alone”

The guy didn’t hesitate to lean against the top of your car to peek his smug little face into the window. As usual, he wore summer-like clothing in cold weather. The sight of it made you want to puke.

“Still nothing from your little boyfriend?” He asked, looking off to the side to see more people flood in.

“Nope… He’s definitely ignoring me” You let out a frustrated exhale, growing agitated then sad at his disappearance.

“Bummer…” Is all the jock could say. He could at least try to be sentimental, you thought. “Why are you here so early?” Continued, Ace.

“To catch that asshole since he’s pretending I don’t exist” You hissed, furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance. “I’ve been here for like an hour or two-“

“Now you’re being crazy”

Ace’s cut-off made you completely halt and slowly turn your fiery gaze towards him. You folded your arms and gave him the sassiest demeanor you ever could.

“Listen, me and Sabo-“

“Mostly Sabo…”

“…Said you should give him space until today to finally reach out again. You look insane” Ace gave you a glare at your interruption.

“It’s not my fault I love him, okay? He really does mean a lot to me…” You sigh, relaxing your angry, tensed-up body.

“I understand that… But don’t be surprised if he’s still ignoring you today. Give it time, idiot” Ace gave you a flick on the forehead, followed by a chuckle.

You rubbed the spot and restrained yourself from giving him a giggle to fuel his laughter. You just turned your body straight ahead.

“Please wear a jacket before you get cold”

“Seriously, is it really that cold out?”

・❥・

You finally set your gaze at Law in the middle of a transition in the halls. You couldn’t help but form an ecstatic grin from ear to ear by his presence. He hadn’t noticed you, as he was walking in a different direction. His direction was the total opposite of where you were destined to go, but you didn’t care. Your legs moved on their own and you immediately bolted to him. The backpacks and bodies of passing students couldn’t stop you from grabbing your hand on his arm, who then looked completely puzzled by you.

“Law, I’ve been looking for you everywhere I-“

You spoke with a beaming smile like this was the first time you’d reunited with him after years of absence. But those sorts of things end in him wrapping his arms around you, spinning you in circles, and blossoms of shared laughter to echo. This, though, ended in Law yanking his arm out of your grasp coldly and averting any sort of eye contact with you. You felt your smile collapse.

“Sorry, I’m gonna be late…” Is all you heard him say ever so deeply. He pushed passed you like you were just an ordinary student who had nothing to do with him. There you stood completely perplexed and ready to break down in front of the mass population of Grand Ocean.

Law felt pained the moment he separated your soft grasp, which he loved everything about, from his arm. He hated every moment of it, but showing his vulnerability was just as scary. He turned his head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of you standing there like a lost puppy in the middle of an alleyway. He thought he’d break down right then and there at the sorrowful sight.

A ‘move it!’ was the very thing to continue on your path after you watched your boyfriend fade into the distance with watery eyes. You decided to do the very thing you never dared to do all year; skip class. The interaction made you lock yourself inside an empty bathroom and sob, tucking your legs to your chest while you sat on the germ-infested bathroom floor. You let out a few tears from your eyes, completely wallowing in utter defeat. Your hand felt the way Law snatched his sleeved arm away from you, and it broke your heart into a trillion pieces. Your light sobs echoed throughout the bathroom and you couldn’t be more relieved that the bathroom was isolated other than the presence of your own. Everything made you wonder about the future of your relationship. ‘Is he even my boyfriend anymore?’ ‘Is he going to break up with me?’ ‘Does he even love me?’ Everything cycled in your head like a whirlpool. All you could do was tuck your head into your arms and let out each tear left in your eyelids.

・❥・

The teacher's lecture was boring for each and every student in that classroom. No one ever really paid attention, aside from the small group of teacher's pets that had their obedient eyes glued on the projecting teacher. Law was certainly not one of them. He scribbled in his notebook while he had music blaring in his left ear, too depressed to focus on school. Occasionally, he’d tap the back end of his sculpted eraser on his notebook to the beat of his music and it could be clearly heard throughout the classroom but ever so faintly. Law’s soft, yet deep, humming could also be heard. The teacher didn’t hesitate to slam a wrinkled hand on his notebook. Law wasn’t phased, more so annoyed that his drawing time was disturbed by some underpaid grown adult. The classroom darted their eyes straight at him like birds of a feather.

“And why aren’t you paying attention, Trafalgar?”

Law had an itching peeve of people he wasn’t quite close with calling him anything other than Law. Considering this was a teacher and they had to be “professional”, it was inevitable. Though, it didn’t scratch away the entire mentality of it annoying him. He exhaled, dropping his drawing utensil on the desk to lay his back on his chair.

“Because your lesson is boring”

Law mumbled. Due to the sheer age of the teacher and the negative qualities coming with it, he raised an eyebrow with an angry expression. He pulled his ear towards the raven-haired boy, who wanted nothing but death upon everyone in the room.

“Say it louder for the class”

“Because your lesson is boring as hell!”

Law's loud, yet bold, statement made the students’ air out of their lungs squeeze out. Some even snickered and tried holding in fits of laughter. The teacher glared at Law with eyes that could kill, but he didn’t care. His dark circled eyes and unamused face said it all.

“Listen here, kid. Just because you have a high grade in my class doesn’t mean you can disrespect me”

He held a finger at Law’s face, who just eyed it up and down with the most disgusted face ever to be created. He pulled his head away from his finger. ‘I don’t know where that thing has been…’

“Yeah, whatever. Are you gonna kick me out now or what?”

Law couldn’t help but carve a cheap grin, and he swore he saw a vein pop out of his angry teacher's head. He pinched the bridge of his nose and was only capable of pointing to the door.

“Thanks… asshole”

Law slung his bag over his shoulder to waltz out of the classroom. Truth is, Law isn’t the type of person to disrespect or cause a scene in class. He thinks it’s embarrassing and completely unnecessary when teachers are only doing their jobs. You were the sole reason Law acted out of character. All his pent-up emotions were unfortunately dumped onto his teacher who had zero place in the entire tussle anyway. He felt his inked fingers grip the band of his backpack tighter now that all of his emotions came running back to him and nothing but guilt flowed through his veins. Law snatched his phone out of his pocket to message the two only people who could, unfortunately as he’d put it, make him feel better.

The Heart Band GC (law hates it here)

Law - 9:40 AM

yo whos available? shachi ik you’re there you do nothing in class

Penguin - 9:42 AM

present

Ikkaku - 9:42 AM

have a test, srry not srry :p

Law - 9:43 AM

ilyt ikkaku.

Shachi (Replying to: Law) - 9:43 AM

no need to expose me dick why what’s up

Law - 9:44 AM

I got kicked out of class, i need a breather ig

Penguin - 9:45 AM

is it bec of your gf?

Shachi - 9:45 AM

wow way to add salt to the wound

Law - 9:46 AM

yea ig so just meet me in the bathroom. no one around pls

Shachi - 9:47 AM

with pleasure

Penguin - 9:47 AM

roger

Law felt a bit relieved he finally got his comfort circle to be there for him. Law moved his legs toward the bathroom they had usually all gone to since the day they began high school.

・❥・

You were still tucked into the bathroom stall, more than 20 minutes “late” to class. You’d been completely dry of tears and have just been wallowing in the same spot to relax your breathing. Beside you, your phone vibrated enough times to grab your attention. You grumbled upon sliding your finger to answer the dumb jock that was quick to bother you.

“Ace, I’m bus-“

“Shut up, where are you?”

Ace’s cut-off made your voice hitch. You didn’t realize you could use his comfort until this very moment you were sulking on the grossly tiled bathroom floor. You choked back a few tears.

“I’m in the bathroom…”

Your voice was wobbly and far from discreet from the fact you’ve been pouring your eyes out. You heard Ace sigh.

“I knew there was something wrong”

“How?”

“Because you never skip class, duh”

You’d realize you had early morning gym with the guy himself and also realized he had an oddly good keen eye. The fact he was able to sense something was off about the fact you didn’t show up to class on time only surprised you for a few moments.

“Don’t tell me this is about Law”

The way he called you out felt like your eyes were ready to pour out freshly made tears. You swallowed a gulp in your mouth and blinked your eyelids to prevent anything from coming out.

“Yeah, sorta…”

“What happened? C’mon talk t’me”

Ace’s voice grew soft and quiet, oddly reassuring despite his failure to do it correctly. You sniffled before you could speak, but Ace was patient. He was there for you.

“I tried talking to him but he pushed me away… Like I’m just a stranger…”

Your voice was off-tone and distorted from your cries. Ace hummed.

“Dick move, I’ll be honest” Ace began. “But you have to remember he’s still probably hurt. Not justifying what he did at all, just saying he’s still in a vulnerable state”

“I know, I know… But still…”

You fondled your fingers with the strings of your jacket. You felt your lower lip fold in between your teeth to bite it, feeling a wave of tears coming down.

“What if we break up, Ace…?”

“Don’t be pessimistic…”

You paused.

“Law loves you. Dearly. Don’t even think about disagreeing with me or I will punch you. This is probably just a stump in the road” Ace’s words did help you calm down quite a bit, which was rather foreign.

“And… If the slim chance that does happen, I’m sure you’ll eventually be reunited after” Ace stating that possibility made a hand squeeze your gut.

“But I’ll be here for you every step of the way, (F/N). Promise” You heard Ace carve a smile through his voice.

“Where would I be without you, Ace”

“Probably dead”

You two share a small fit of laughter. That phone call you once dreaded became the very thing to place a smile on your face. You couldn’t have asked for a better brother-figure.

“Cheer up. And come to class, Newgate is yelling at me about you”

“Yeah, yeah… Be there in a sec’” You smiled. Ace hummed and disconnected the line between the two phones.

You exhaled and felt finally a tad bit better than before. The confidence to leave soon accompanied your relaxed state and you walked your body towards the gym where you were assigned to be.

・❥・

“C’mon guys, we’re in school and it’s only 10 AM”

Law swatted the earthy-scented smoke away from his face almost made him cough, which would be the sole reason for them getting caught. Shachi and Penguin shared one roll and averted their eyes to the black-haired boy who had his arms crossed.

“Didn’t… You say you needed a breather, though?” Penguin reminded, pointing the smoking roll towards his friend.

“Yeah, just to talk and calm down. If I wanted to smoke I would’ve just gone to my car, idiot” Law pinched his temple, only to receive a dumbfounded shrug by his brunette friend.

“What happened?” Shachi blew a puff of smoke upward, flooding around in the bathroom before it faded away unlike the scent. Law exhaled in annoyance.

“Th’teacher just annoyed the shit outta me, and (F/N) tried talking to be earlier” Law explained.

“So… What pissed you off more?” Shachi asked, receiving a nudge from the guy beside him.

“What do you think?” He hissed. Penguin just exhaled and turned his eyes from the redhead to Law.

“Did you talk to her?” He asked.

Law just paused for a moment before saying anything. He wanted to say yes because he wished he could hold you and speak to you again, but that was a fantasy he created in his brain. He just averted eye contact.

“No, I didn’t”

“Why?” Shachi coughed before covering his mouth with his arm to muffle it. Penguin quickly shushed him before they’d get in deep hell for smoking.

“Because… I’m just not ready” Law wasn’t entirely lying, more so leaving out major bits and pieces that he wasn’t quite comfortable in saying just yet.

“When do you think you’ll be ready?” Penguin asked an oddly great question while being intoxicated. Law felt stumped for a moment. While he thought about it for a few seconds, the two friends just puffed and passed.

“Not sure… I don’t even know what I wanna do with my relationship itself” Law tan his tan fingers through his hair from stress.

“Do you wanna break up with them?”

“No!”

Law snapped at Shachi which caused him to lightly flinch and be completely taken back. Law realized his small outburst.

“No… I don’t… But I’m still angry at them” Law exhaled.

“But it seems like they’re pretty determined to talk to you and fix everything. You can’t keep running away” Penguin handed whatever was left of the burning roll to Shachi to keep. He seemed to be pretty focused on this conversation.

“I know, I know but I feel like if I talk to them, I’ll just have an outburst. They’re the most stubborn person I know” Law grumbled, reminding himself of the many moments you were stubborn towards him.

“Takes one to know one, just sayin’” Shachi snickered.

“Get high and shut up” Penguin hissed. “Anyway, talk to them soon. How long has it been since you spoke to them”

Law averted eye contact out of embarrassment once again. He felt like an asshole for ghosting you for two days straight.

“Since the party-“

“Jesus-! Law, they’re gonna break up with you first before you even get the chance to think about it”

Penguin snapped at Law and all he could do was hide his face in his iconic hat out of embarrassment. Shachi watched with a snickering laugh, which eventually drew two menacing glares at his way.

“Talk to them after school. I’m sure they’ll understand your feelings” Penguin tried to give Law a reassuring smile, which he knew he secretly liked.

“Fine. I’ll try…”

“Good”

Shachi then burst out in a fit of hoarse coughing. The accumulated smoke eventually caught up to him and both of his friends tried to suffocate the loud noises. Law tried shushing him while Penguin shoved a hand over his mouth. Shachi began flailing his arm around to push Penguin off of him before he could suffocate him but to no avail. They tried everything and anything to prevent the redhead from giving away their “break”

“You done? You done dying?” Penguin asked. Shachi nodded vigorously with angry eyes. With that, Penguin chuckled while removing his hands. Shachi began hyperventilating dramatically.

“If my coughing didn’t kill me, you would’ve. Dick.”

“You two are idiots…”

・❥・

You sling your bag over your shoulder as you, rather quickly, walk outside of the school. You had quite the emotional day and you’ve never wished to be in bed so badly in your life. The brisk cold air made your nose and cheeks more vibrant. You felt your hair slightly shift its position when the wind hit it. You were dreading the blistering winters on coming.

As you walked to your car, you saw a figure leaning against it, facing away from you. You felt a fiery sense build up in your system thinking it was a total stranger, but that hat and those printed fingers were not foreign to you. After slowing down your tracks for a moment, you didn’t hesitate to make your way to your nonchalant boyfriend.

“Law?”

Is all you could say. He perked his head up to the grey sky above before landing his steel eyes back at you. They were still cold and empty, and it absolutely petrified you. He hummed before speaking.

“Let’s talk in my car. Yours is too open” Law demanded. You blinked.

“Are you-“

“Just c’mon, (F/N)-ya”

You felt Law grab your arm and yank your entire body away from your vehicle. His grip wasn’t tight, but enough to hold you down when you objected. The more you thought this would extend the time to arrive home, the more angry you got. Law finally talking to you was nice, but after he blatantly ignored you made you angry at him as time passed.

You angrily plopped in the passenger seat while Law sat right beside you behind the noir wheel. After the doors slammed in sync, you two stared off into the distance in silence. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. The only thing that was audible was the faint breathing coming from the both of you. Law adjusted his seat and placed a finger by his lips.

“You gonna say something or keep sitting there in silence” Law finally slashed straight through the menacing silence. You whipped your head at him with baffled eyes.

“Real funny coming from the guy that ghosted me for days” You folded your arms and leaned your back against the car door. Law rubbed his temple.

“Right, ‘cause I’m the bad guy for wanting space” He snapped back. Your brain could not comprehend the absolute sass and, as you’d say, bullshit he was spewing.

“Yes, absolutely, because you didn’t have the common courtesy to tell me you wanted space!”

“Why should I when you know what you did?”

Law had a sarcastic smile on his face which only fueled your anger towards him more. It was all giving you deja vu.

“Y’know what, fine. What do you want me to say?” You exhale.

“An apology”

“An apolog-? Are you serious, Trafalgar?”

Hearing his first name, which you’d never use, come out of your mouth made Law flinch. He wasn’t used to it and, given his sudden anger by your stubbornness, it made him angry.

“Deathly serious, (F/N). Absolutely deathly” Law said with, yet, another sarcastic smile.

“You don’t think I deserve an apology? You just acted like I was some background character in the hallway”

“Can you please just realize I’m the one hurt here?”

You lowered your guard when Law finally whipped at you with teary eyes. It was like he finally had enough and wanted you to see what you’ve been doing to him. The sight made your heart shatter, more than it already has.

“Law, I’m also hurt. I missed you so much-“

“Then you should’ve thought about that when you chose Ace over me”

“Wha-? I did not choose Ace over you, Law”

Your anger was quick to come back which only caused anger to birth from Law as well. It wasn’t long until the two of you were yelling at each other. So loud that the car couldn’t conceal the noise anymore. You realized why Law chose his secluded vehicle instead of your more explicit one. You knew once this was over, you and Law's voice would be tainted and worn out.

“Law, what’s even your problem!? I told you he’s just a brother to me, okay? I know what I did was off the rails but you ignored me for days on end and-… You don’t understand, I was worried sick!”

“You don’t understand!” Law pointed a finger at you, which was the instant thing that made you shut up. You heard his voice slightly break, him on the verge of tears once again. His angry, fiery demeanor seemed like it was doused in water. He was all out of anger and filled with sorrow.

“(F/N), I never wanted to be this close with someone again because the last time I loved someone this much he…” Law felt a tear trickle down his cheek, only causing yours to follow.

“He’s fucking dead. And I love you, so… So fucking much. This isn’t even about that idiot jock anymore, this is about the fact I can’t stand how much I love you”

Law grabbed your hand with his and held it tenderly. You couldn’t hold back the waterfall building up in your eyes any longer, and neither could Law. You were speechless.

“I can’t stand how even after you did that I still love you so much. I didn’t want to talk to you because I was scared of what you might think if I was vulnerable…”

You felt the grip on your hand grow tighter.

“I can’t, (F/N). I can’t. We’re yelling at each other like an angry married couple in my car because we’re too stubborn to admit defeat”

You felt the grip on your heart grow tighter.

“But believe me when I say I’m still angry at you. So. Fucking. Angry. And this is why…”

Law inhaled and stared at you deep in your red, sad eyes. Seeing them only made him more hurt and his entire heart fell in shambles.

“This is why I can’t be with you anymore. I just… Things will only get worse from here” He let go of your hand.

“What? No, no, no”

The words coming out from his lips felt unreal to you. You thought, based off of what Ace told you earlier, that you and Law would be happy again. Not back to strangers who now hate each other. You regretted anything and everything that caused those words to form out of his mouth. The moment you felt his tender grip loosen, you felt like you lost absolutely everything.

“We’re supposed to grow together, not apart. This is just a stump-“

“Yeah, well clearly it didn’t work out” Law stared straight forward while you did the opposite. You kept your sad gaze on him meanwhile Law seemed to be out of sorrow. His eyes were puffy but out of tears. He held a hand over his mouth and lightly rubbed it.

“Are you serious…?”

Law just shut his eyes and hummed all while nodding slowly. You stared in disbelief, hoping that this was just some sick nightmare. Something you could wake up and forget it was even real—but nothing. It was the harsh, cruel reality of laughing at you.

“It’s been fun”

“‘It’s been fun’? Is that all you can say to me after dumping me for some small issue? I can’t even believe you right now-“

“Then leave”

His words sent you straight back to the day this whole thing started. He even tried giving you the same cold, unloving look as well. You were suddenly slipped into Law’s shoes and you felt heartbroken. You felt your lip quiver and your eyes ready to dump yet another huge load of tears of the day. You snatched your bag with all your might.

“Fuck you, Law”

Law took those words more personally than he displayed. After he heard the harsh slam of the passenger door and watched you disappear, that’s when he finally finished sobbing out the rest of his tears.

Truth be told, Law only came off as rude as he did because he knew it was best. If he had stayed truthfully sentimental, he knew you would’ve tried to stay and talk it out. He didn’t want you to carry more baggage from him anymore. It soon made him realize Law was more insecure than he initially thought, only making him feel way worse. Bolting out of the car, grabbing your hand, and saying he took back every word was something Law could only fantasize about. Instead, he gripped the steering wheel while he soiled the middle of it with his sad tears. He never dreamed of letting you go, but here we are.

You, on the contrary, were angrier than ever by his reaction. You didn’t hesitate to zip out the school premises because if you hadn’t, someone was going to be decimated. Although, halfway down your trip, that anger slithered its way into sadness. You were surprised you made it home in one piece because of your altered vision. Instead of procrastinating in your car, as usual, you sobbed until your lungs gave out. This wasn’t planned out, you never planned for this to happen. It was just a minor overthinking possibility, but you never prepared for it to actually happen. You didn’t know a single thing to do moving forward besides cry out for him to come back.

And that’s exactly what you did for as long as you can remember.

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𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔

✎ ❝ it’s been a way too long since i’ve come out with a chapter but YAYAYAYAY ANGST (i was crying while writing) but most importantly… THANK YOU SO MUCH ON THE MOUNTAIN OF SUPPORT ON MY LUFFY X READER???? dude that fan fiction was rushed and just not my best which is why i procrastinated on coming out with it but THANK GOD YALL ENJOYED READING IT THATS ALL THAT MATTERS!!!! schools been kicking my ass so sorry for the absence but i love you guys so much! trying to come out with a fic every week or so!! STAY SWEET AND LUVABLEEEE ❞

All licensing and ownership belong to Eiichiro Oda

#fanfic #one piece #op x reader #x reader #law x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar one piece #law fanfic #trafalgar law

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foxymoxynoona · 2 years

Text

Lone Blue Egg (Pt 1)

Header and banners by the talented @awrkives

Summary: Jungkook is a simple man. He goes to work, he hangs out with friends, he worries about finding a mate to take home for his hometown breeding season. Maybe he spends a little more money on cam girls than is fiscally responsible but he has niche tastes. Maybe he feels a bit adrift, but he's a young penguin hybrid, supposedly in his prime, far from his crèche. At least he's good at one thing: taking care of his precious egg. A comfort egg, not a real egg, he's not a real penguin, just a man with penguin DNA and behavioral tendencies. Just like Yoongi isn't actually an owl, even if he does stay up all night and sometimes hoot to fuck with their roommates. But this is a real love story, even if a slightly odd one.

Penguin Hybrid Jungkook x Bird Female OC Book 1 in the Birdtan Series

CW/TAGS: humor, drama, angst, cringe, explicit sex, toy play/toy uh obsession?, oviposition, ice cubes, porn, cam girls and masturbation, oral (both), edging, semi-public shenanigans, mammoth condoms, specism, language, theft

Read on AO3 or below

MASTERLIST | Next

Jungkook slumped down in his seat at the cafe. The tables against the window and wall had all been taken when he got here today, so he’d had no choice but to claim a padded chair right in the middle of the cafe, right by the walkway. He felt exposed like this, like he stood out. He felt massive in the middle of this cafe, even though he’d taken his coat off and stuffed it between his legs and kept his sketchpad and Switch case in a neat pile on the small table. He kept his head down, neck burrowed into the thick neckline of his fuzzy grey sweater and hands pulled into his sleeves to cushion his palms from the heat of his cinnamon latte. He kept slipping one hand into the front pouch of his sweater to hold onto his comfort glass egg tucked safely inside, warmed by his body heat.

He knew there were people staring at him. That’s why he didn’t like to sit at these tables. At least if he was in his usual corner, no matter if someone stared at him, there was a whole case of bagged coffee beans and a newspaper stand and ideally even another table before anyone would actually be able to reach him or talk to him. He didn’t come to the cafe to be talked to, he came here to just exist around other people in a controlled manner before he went home. He actually really loved his engineering job and the healthcare company he worked for, but he spent most of his days alone in his cubicle, eavesdropping on the more exciting conversations around him. He’d go home to his room in the shared apartment in a large building and often as not, be alone again, unless Yoongi or Taehyung were around and up for something. Taehyung barely seemed to land these days though and Yoongi was going through a nocturnal phase.

Ok, maybe Jungkook was lonely. Nothing new. And he just wanted to get to exist around a group of people he could pretend he had a connection with for a while without actually having to interact in a way that broke the myth. They were just a bunch of cool people who all liked warm coffee beverages on a cool autumn day.

But the problem was, these weren’t his people. None of them. If they were, he wouldn’t be scrolling not one but two matchmaking apps. White Tie Suit was the more sophisticated of the two, promising to help young single penguins find their life partner. Dive worried less about the lifelong and more about the nightlong, a quick hookup app that made no promises about whether you’d find someone actually worth taking home for the Holidays. Jungkook had been active on both for a number of years he did not feel like recalling, and while he’d managed to eke some hookups out of them, certainly nothing lasting. Probably he’d have better luck if he lived closer to home but… well… this was home now. For now. Unless he just hit his limit for loneliness…

“Excuse me.” Jungkook looked up. He’d been so busy thumb-scrolling and lamenting his unreturned “right-flaps” that he hadn’t prepared himself for the approach. This was the problem when you were exposed on all sides, it was too hard to monitor threat vs. non-threat. He looked up and didn’t think this woman was a threat. But maybe she was.

“Hi,” Jungkook said as a cold sweat broke out down his spine. Oh. Wow. She was very pretty. He sat up in his chair, rolling his shoulders back, lifting his chin. He pitched his voice as low as he could. “Nice to meet you.”

She shirked her shoulders cutely and pointed, “Is that chair taken?”

“No, have a seat,” he quickly gestured. Fuck. Fuck, this was an unexpected turn.

“Thank you,” she said, and picked up the chair and carried it over to the other table. Where she sat down and promptly leaned in to kiss her girlfriend.

Jungkook hated it here.

He gave up on the cafe, bundled his things in his arms, and went to ask for a carry-out cup for his untouched drink. And an ice cube because it was too hot to drink.

His latte cup was empty by the time he got home, chugged a bit too quickly as he had to catch a crowded bus. Seal. He could smell it, somewhere further back, but couldn’t see over the heads. That made it worse, even though rationally he knew someone with seal DNA was not going to just fucking attack him in the middle of a crowded bus. Well, it could happen, but it was rare. Just like Jungkook wasn’t going to go bite someone with mackerel in their blood. The same, right? Except seals were always total assholes, unlike penguins.

At least the stop was just outside of his building, a birds-only housing development, though it didn’t mean asshole free. Jungkook hated this building, which was as noisy and active as a frat house at all hours of the day. Taehyung liked that, and it was the first place they’d found that had two single-room vacancies in a multi-unit, which was all either could afford at the time. Now Jungkook could afford significantly more but… what was the point? Sure, he could move into a single unit somewhere, or even buy his own place outright in the suburbs but that was pointless without a partner. In fact, buying the wrong place could cost him a partner, if he picked a place they didn’t like… Besides, he’d be alone in a bigger place which wasn’t necessarily any better than being packed in with people he didn’t like. He hadn’t liked everyone at home either, even when they were all penguins. Maybe he just didn’t fit anywhere...

“Hey, chickie,” Chad greeted the second Jungkook walked through the door. Chad. He was a fucking blue-jay named Chad, how gross could you get? Jungkook ignored him and separated the pieces of his coffee cup into the sorted bins. He could see the beer bottles in one had not been rinsed out. “You cooking dinner tonight?”

“Not for you,” Jungkook said, stepping around him.

“It’s your turn.”

“We don’t take turns cooking.”

“It’s his turn, right?” Chad called to Steven.

“Yep.”

“You’re a seagull, you don’t say anything but yep,” Jungkook retorted.

“Aw, chickie’s feelings are hurt?”

Jungkook bit back the retort, well aware what they were trying to get him to say, what he had accidentally snapped one time and sealed his fate: I’m not a chick, I’m a cock. It was true. He was an adult.

Chad and Steven laughed anyway. They knew he’d thought it. He might as well have said it.

“Hey fuck off, make your own food,” Yoongi said, shuffling right between them. He opened the fridge and blinked at the light before closing it and looking at the counter.

“It’s his turn,” Chad frowned. Hurt. Because it hurt when Yoongi told you to fuck off, even if you were a bluejay named Chad. The soup he made when you were sick was just too healing, even Chad and Steven respected him. Didn’t hurt that barn owls had been known to eat even adult blue-jays. Not the people obviously, and yet Taehyung had an actual tally on the whiteboard in his room for how many times Yoongi managed to unintentionally sneak up on Chad and make him squeak or drop whatever he was holding.

“It’s not--” Jungkook began but Yoongi interrupted, “It’s fine, I’ll cook. Transfer me money,” he told Chad and Steven. “Ok day at work?” he asked Jungkook. It flattered him, to be asked.

“It was ok,” he mumbled. Chad and Steven had whipped out their phones, willing to pay Yoongi for the service they demanded from Jungkook. They couldn’t actually bully him around; he didn’t do what they said ever. If it came to blows he was definitely faster and stronger than both of them. He just didn’t want it to come to blows. He didn’t feel like fighting anyone. He was tired. He just wanted things to be easy and quiet.

“I’ll cook with you,” he said to Yoongi. “Let me put my stuff down. Did you sleep all day?”

“Yeah. I’ll keep it down tonight,” he promised. The late-night music never bothered Jungkook though and he brushed it off. Maybe it would be different if Yoongi sucked, but his compositions were always incredible. Jungkook actually preferred he use the speakers if he was working on the keyboard, so he could hear the actual music instead of just the keys clicking.

“I don’t care, hyung. I’ll cook with you and you can tell me what you’re working on.”

“Yeah sure,” Yoongi said. “Get my sauce basket.” Jungkook was flattered to be asked this as well, to even be entrusted with its location in his room. The sauce basket was kept there, instead of the kitchen, to prevent late night cooking attempts by Chad and Steven who did not and should not cook, especially with Yoongi’s high end materials.

Cooking with Yoongi was a definite improvement to his day. He didn’t even totally hate eating with Chad and Steven, even though Steven constantly stole things from his plate unasked. Chad, much more possessive with his plate, nearly stabbed Steven with a fork when he did it to him, so that was exciting.

Taehyung got home in time to steal the last bit of food and bully Chad and Steven into helping with the dishes. It left Jungkook free to escape, now maxed out with people interactions for the day. There. He’d been social. Maybe not social with the kind of people who were easy, but it did mean that now he appreciated closing his bedroom door with the world outside.

Besides, he’d gotten a phone alert and didn’t want to be too late.

His hands fumbled with anticipatory energy as he quickly lowered his blinds and locked the door and switched to the rippling blue LEDs placed around the room. For a moment he paused and just let out the deep breath he’d held all day. Maybe it was silly how quickly just lights could relax him but he felt happily submerged in peace here.

Right, the appointment. He set his glass egg carefully in a little crate he had for it on his desk. He nearly dropped his laptop in his haste to grab it from his nightstand and clear a space also on his desk. He almost used the desktop but no, he wanted the flexibility to move to the bed if things went well. He fired it up and barely remembered to plug his headphones in before navigating to the site link.

“... so I promised to do that because it’s something highly requested,” PattyPussy25 said into the camera. She sat cross-legged on her bed, wearing an incredibly sexy flowy black lingerie set. The camera quality wasn’t the best but Patty’s personality was so cute and quirky, Jungkook still liked her. He did! He admitted it, even though she was a platypus. It wasn’t like she actually looked like a platypus. Or like genetic preferences could pick up on the species gap through a fucking computer screen.

He used to only watch penguin girls. It just seemed the natural choice since, you know, that’s what he was looking for in life. Hoping for. Replacing with fantasy until he could find the real thing. But there weren’t many of them. The one he liked the best had found a mate and stopped streaming, and the one he liked second best… well, he still watched her, but when he’d bought her the gift through her support shop, she’d disappointed him.

So he’d branched out, first to other birds, and now even to other animals. It wasn’t a big deal, right? There were totally people who mated outside their species and it wasn’t illegal or anything, just a little odd. Like why couldn’t you find a mate within your own species? You tended to see it more with hybrids who weren’t lifelong monogamous. You were really signing yourself up for some culture shock maybe if you were going to be lifelong with someone totally different than you and your family.

But he was a penguin. Serial monogamous, not lifelong monogamous. Honestly he couldn’t really imagine committing to anyone for that long for real, though he had his romantic dreams like anyone else. If you could at least find a nice long for right now, why not dream it would be so good you were happy with it for life?

When Adelaide12 disappointed him with the toy though, he began clicking through other channels. Too many cat girls and dog girls and dolphin girls but it was almost nicer to be interested in a more niche space to give him some direction in a sea of hot women. Quickly and unsurprisingly, he realized the mainstream mammals wouldn’t get it. Egg laying hybrids would come through for him, even if Adelaide12 hadn’t.

HornyTori was the first camgirl he’d actually subscribed to for real. She was one of the most popular on the site, the go-to lizard girl, and while at first he’d been shocked by her crests and blunt demeanor, he’d quickly realized why she was so popular. Hot, funny, cool, and had no problem shutting down bullshit from her viewers. If only Jungkook had understood sooner that was really her thing, it would have saved him from the way she’d mocked the message he’d attached to the gift he sent her through her support store. He’d had plenty of humiliating moments in his life. He was not interested in sponsoring one, certainly not unexpectedly when he was already sitting dick out and lubed, hopeful she’d enjoy his gift. You’re a penguin? You’re weird. Probably some chubby guy in your mom’s basement, huh? Ironically he probably would have had an easier time meeting a penguin woman if he was!

OK. HornyTori was in the past. So he tried SoftShellLover, a pretty and shy turtle whose slow and sensual ways made him cum embarrassingly hard, so hard he wouldn’t even talk to his friends about it because what if he had a thing for turtles? She appreciated the gift, but now he was too scared to add any notes, and she didn’t take initiative and after that, she didn’t do it for him anymore. Then he tried GatorSnatchedAngel, whose tattoos and piercings kept him sweaty for days. She seemed like she’d be game for anything, but his vague suggestion was too vague. When he followed up, trying to encourage her more in the right direction, she blocked him. Which of course made him feel like a shitty creep but he wasn’t a shitty creep!

So now it was down to PattyPussy25. Patty the platypus did all sorts of niche things. Really niche, like lactation and venom milking, and her partially webbed hands and feet came up in her videos a lot. None of these particularly appealed to Jungkook but she was sexy and sultry and kind of weird like him, so he liked her. He was open minded! Couldn’t other people be?

“Now I got a special gift from my support store this week and it arrived in the mail yesterday.” Fuck this was it! Jungkook’s hands shook. She lifted the velvet pouch into view and Jungkook’s cock twitched. He could hardly look at the screen and glanced around his desk instead.

Ah, blue egg was right in view, nestled in its lined storage box. Oops. He shifted the laptop so blue egg was hidden behind it, out of view. He didn’t want to be reminded of that right now, not when Patty untied the pouch and let the gift --his gift-- fall into her hand.

“This is a nice one,” she said, slanting her hands towards the camera. It almost rolled out of her palm and Jungkook’s heart leapt but she caught it and laughed. “Oops. I did already open this earlier today so I could clean it --always clean your toys before use and after use, remember that! And let me tell you, this one is so nice. It has a velvety texture and the color is this really pretty pink.”

Jungkook was sweating, watching her describe his gift so appreciatively. Now he couldn’t tear his gaze from the screen as he fumbled with his sweatpants, sliding them down his ass, all the way to the floor. His hand patted around the desk until he found the drawers beneath, the bottle of lube and box of tissues stowed inside.

“Listen to that buzz,” Patty grinned, turning it on and holding it near the camera. She was so close, Jungkook could see the camera lights reflecting in her eyes, and the shine of her teeth, and the way her nipples were straining against the flimsy gauze of her lingerie. It must be cold in her room. That surprised him. She liked the cold? She didn’t mind that? His cock twitched again, actually lifted off his thigh, as he thought of licking down and around those pebbled, cold nipples.

Patty pressed the toy to her nose and giggled, “Oh yeah, that’s going to feel good. Like I said, this is a good egg. Thank you so much, EggsandTails97. I’m really going to enjoy this, I can tell, and I hope you enjoy watching me make myself cum with your generous gift.” As she said it, she rolled the egg down her jaw and down her neck and across her collarbone.

Fuck. Fuck fuck. Jungkook slapped the lube pump and dropped his hand to stroke his cock, fondling his balls with the other as she shuffled back from the camera. At first she sat curl-legged on her bed, letting the egg roll and buzz across her tits. She pressed it to each nipple in turn and made this delicious noise, a combination of a moan and a giggle. Jungkook swallowed and squeezed the head of his cock almost painfully hard. His mouth was dry, he was so excited. She was going to do it. Patty the platypus understood what he wanted, from his note: Show me what a platypus does with an egg.

Jungkook’s hand squeezed and snapped more quickly along his length as the egg traveled lower. She slipped a strap off her shoulder, letting one breast free, but even that couldn’t distract him from the path of the egg as she spread her legs. Oh fuck, what if she put it in under her underwear? And just left it there for a while?

“Come on,” he mumbled, palm slick along his length.

“All right all you naughty boys, I’ll show you what a platypus does with an egg.”

Jungkook coughed. He actually choked on his own saliva. Quickly he squeezed the base of his dick, desperate not to cum too soon. This wasn’t a recording, he wouldn’t be able to watch it again later and fully enjoy the sweet moment. The ephemeral nature of these videos was a thing he’d come to appreciate about them.

“I’m so wet right now and I haven’t even touched my pussy yet,” Patty grinned, biting her thick lower lip. “I’m already clenching… it’s so hard to go slow but I want to take my time and enjoy this with you.” She gasped when the egg touched her panties; her shoulders jerked as she giggled about how strong it was. Jungkook leaned in closer, watching every moment, trying to ignore the wet sound of his own hand despite his headphones. He wished she was louder, there was that. She tended to be chill but if she would do this for him, he’d never complain again--

Her panties came off. Ok, that was ok. Jungkook tried to slow down but couldn’t because her own gasps and moans were picking up.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Put it in. Put it in, Patty. Let me see that egg stretch your pussy…”

She came. No egg in the pussy, just buzzing merrily against her clit. She was a little louder than usual; maybe she really did enjoy it. But Jungkook was crestfallen. He closed his eyes and imagined what he’d wanted to see so he could finish, and cumming was… satisfactory. Cumming was never bad.

But yet another disappointment left him empty and sullen afterwards. He turned her video off without listening to her further, just closed his laptop. He frowned, faced with his little comfort egg again.

“I’m never going to find a mate,” he lamented, glancing down at his spent, soft dick, as if it were to blame. “I can’t even find a woman who knows where to put a fucking egg!”

His blue egg said nothing as he tucked it into the pocket of his sweatpants, once he’d cleaned up. He always slept with it close, but particularly tonight, after yet another disappointment. He pulled it out of his pocket and rolled over so that it was trapped under his stomach, a little uncomfortable as a reminder, as a guarantee it was safely there. Only then did he finally fall asleep.

The bar near his office building was crowded on a Tuesday night. Stupidly so. But Namjoon had made clear he needed a hang time without directly asking for a hang time and while also making clear no one could come to his place because his sister was “in a mood” --though Jungkook had a secret suspicion Namjoon just didn’t want Taehyung or Jungkook around his sister because she was hot and did not hide she found both of them so as well. Jungkook was flattered to be in the same company as Taehyung.

Once they were all four seated around a high-top near the cracked windows though, it became clear the true reason for Namjoon’s huddle call: he wanted to tattle on Taehyung.

It started innocently enough: “Ok, I need advice,” he said, holding a chip piled with avocado dipping sauce. Taehyung leaned in, Yoongi leaned back, Jungkook just ate food, already unsure what advice he could possibly give the golden eagle. If he had shoulders and height like that, he’d never need advice from anyone.

“Oh is this about that girl you met Saturday?” Taehyung asked.

“Which girl?” Namjoon asked, quickly lowering his chip. “The one who was the whole reason I brought you to that party to wingman for me for? Or the one I was left with after you made off with the first one?”

There it was. Yoongi and Jungkook said nothing but shifted their gaze to Taehyung, who cried,

“No! I mean, yes, I did wingman for you! But she was a marmot!”

“So?”

Yoongi grimaced, “Ah. Her instincts were strong about it?”

“Yes,” Taehyung nodded. “She was super cute and sweet and absolutely terrified when Namjoon approached her. But her friend liked hyung much more so he-- so you told me the marmot woman was all clear.”

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t mean you should just go for it. I work with that woman!”

“So?” Taehyung argued.

Jungkook, mouth full of crackers, asked, “Wait, she was scared of hyung but not of you?”

He shouldn’t have asked, Taehyung was all too happy to remind him, “Peregrine falcons mostly eat other birds. Rarely marmots. Unlike me, I’ll eat anything.” He winked as he said it, pleased with his dirty joke.

“I was fully prepared to eat her in a sexual way,” Namjoon sighed.

“She just didn’t like your vibes, that’s all. It’s not a you problem, hyung, you’re great. Didn’t you take that other woman home? She didn’t mind your vibes.”

“And what vibes are those?” Namjoon asked, leaning forward on the table. The thunk of his big arms was enough to rattle their drinks. Granted, it was because of a loose leg on the pedestal table but the timing of it was perfect. Namjoon sighed and covered his face. “I’m not threatening!”

“Not all women know about eagles. You have a bit of a reputation. You’re large, you’re fierce, you’re intelligent,” Yoongi pointed out.

“Yeah, hyung. You’re a catch. You instill fear and respect,” Taehyung added. Jungkook arched his eyebrow at Taehyung. He was really laying the apology on thick.

“You really took her home with you?” he asked Taehyung.

“Ok look--”

“He did!” Namjoon sighed. “And whatever happened, she wouldn’t even look me in the eye today.”

“Nothing bad happened,” Taehyung quickly defended. “We just fucked.”

“Uh huh.”

Yoongi shook his head and gave Jungkook a look, but he wasn’t sure what the look was supposed to mean.

“What are you wanting advice about, hyung?” Jungkook tried. “You met another woman there?”

“Yeah I did and she’s great but… ah, it’s the same problem as always. She thought I didn’t enjoy it… so now the text messages are awkward.”

“You have to let the woman know you’re enjoying it,” Yoongi said. “Tell her you did.”

“I did tell her that! But she thought I was too quiet like they always do… I thought a marmot wouldn’t mind me being quiet, she might see it as a sign of respect.”

“She wasn’t quiet and didn’t mind me not being quiet either…” Taehyung mumbled into his Coke. Namjoon gave him a stare lacking all amusement. Taehyung sighed, “I mean it, it’s nothing wrong with you. If I had to choose between us, I’d choose you. I’m just faster and looser and less threatening, that’s all it was. But if you’re that bothered by it, I’ll call her after all and push her to give you a chance.”

“You weren’t even going to call her?” Jungkook asked, not surprised. “Fast” was a good way to describe all of Taehyung’s relationships with members of the opposite sex.

“Nah, she was fun but she’s not like the one. She knew that too, she was just looking for fun. Seriously, hyung, do you want me to--”

“No,” Namjoon sighed. “I don’t want you to beg a woman for me.”

Yoongi nodded, “If you’re going to really help him, you should have just invited him along.” Even as he said it, he couldn’t keep a straight face, already predicting Namjoon’s outrage.

“Yeah, why not? Thanks, great advice for meeting my mate, great advice from an owl who’s been circling his mate for how long now? And still won’t--”

“I knew you were going to bring her up,” Yoongi sighed. “I told you, it’s not like that. She’s not interested…”

But Jungkook was quick to agree, “She is interested, hyung, she’s just waiting for you to be direct.”

“Wait, hyung, did you really wonder if a marmot was going to be your mate?” Taehyung asked, stopping the derailment and even putting his hand on Namjoon’s arm.

“I… well… I don’t know!” Namjoon answered, instantly flustered. Which he had good reason to be; even though interspecies relationships weren’t unheard of, they were even more rare among direct food chain links. Sure, people looked like people and acted like people and they weren’t walking around murdering and eating other people who just happened to have the DNA threads of their own hybrid threads’ prey. But while the DNA implants several generations ago had ended the outbreak, they had left these shadows of instinct. In some people, very strong shadows.

Jungkook slid his hand beneath the table to check his egg nestled securely in the pocket of his sweatpants, right next to his phone. He twisted it until he could feel the scratch of the etching under the pad of his thumb.

“I feel like shit,” Taehyung fronwed. “I’m not heckling you about a marmot, hyung, I just didn’t realize it was that serious. I never would have taken her home. I asked you first!”

Now Namjoon backtracked, “Well, maybe it’s-- I don’t mean it’s that serious, just that… ah, it’s just awkward now because I work with her and if you don’t call her, maybe she’ll ask me about it.”

“If she does then you can swoop in --eh, pun not intended,” Yoongi suggested.

Jungkook pulled the egg out of his pocket and rolled it absent-mindedly in his hands. The weight of it was always comforting to toss if he was nervous, but right now he was just slightly buzzed and restless.

“What party was this?” he asked them. He had known Taehyung was out Saturday night but not where. He also knew Yoongi had been out with his “not yet his mate” friend. But he’d been sitting at home, so if Namjoon and Taehyung had been to a party--

“It was a house-warming party,” Namjoon told him. “Someone in my branch got a new place with their mate and invited the department… not my department but I went anyway… that sounds creepier than I mean. A lot of people crashed. It’s tradition.”

“I’ll go next time with you. I can wingman for you and I won’t take any of the women you like home to fuck,” Jungkook offered. The corners of his lips twitched, trying not to smile as Taehyung glared.

The glare lasted only a moment before Taehyung sighed, “You should fuck them. You would feel so much better if you fucked one! You move at a glacial place sexually, Kook.”

“I’ve fucked women before,” he defended. “I just don’t divebomb them like you do.”

“They like it.”

But Namjoon gave Jungkook an apologetic look and said, “I only didn’t ask you because I know you don’t like big noisy parties. Besides, we’re both too slow with women. I’ll admit it. Aren’t we? But I thought Taehyung could help me-- you helped both of them meet women!”

Jungkook grimaced and tucked the egg back into his pocket. Yes, Taehyung had helped him meet women before. He was a good friend and he wanted to help, but he just had a very different approach. Jungkook really wanted to meet his mate. It was very important to him to meet his mate and spend as little of his life as possible flailing about with other women who might be willing to fuck once or twice but ultimately didn’t really get him or want him. He wanted someone to take home.

“Yeah but you’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” Taehyung explained. “I could only help them when they relaxed too. Don’t act like I don’t want to find a life mate too. Peregrine falcons mate for life! Golden eagles and penguins do not always.” He pointed at the two of them. “So don’t give me shit just because I’m enjoying my time until I meet the one. When I do, she will be my entire world. Until then… I’m enjoying myself. You both are too busy worrying about it. Just relax and have fun. You’ll meet someone when you least expect it.”

To Jungkook’s surprise, Namjoon turned to him and Yoongi and asked, “How did you relax about it? Right now I’m feeling pretty sure I’m going to die alone.”

Yoongi nodded, “I just accept I might die alone. If you come to terms with it, it’s not so bad.”

“Just make your move,” Taehyung sighed dramatically.

“It’s… complicated…”

“What about you?” Namjoon asked Jungkook.

“I got just the right amount of drunk,” Jungkook admitted. “And… decided my way wasn’t working so I should try Taehyungie-hyung’s way. I didn’t meet any penguins that way but I did get to have sex…”

“Will you only wind up with a penguin?” Yoongi asked him. He’d asked this before too, when they’d first started to be friends after moving in together. It was just coincidence, they hadn’t known each other, Yoongi had just accepted the placement by the building, but he’d gotten along well with Taehyung and Jungkook, and introduced them to his friend Namjoon, and now two years had gone by. And all of them were still without mates.

Jungkook frowned, “You make that sound like a bad thing. I’m not specist. If I met someone else --I’m open,” he insisted and decided to believe it. “I just think a penguin has a better chance of understanding… me. And my family.”

“Can’t your family introduce you to someone?” Namjoon asked.

“No,” Jungkook said simply. It was a stupid answer, because often penguin families did set their kids up, his situation was just... He felt Taehyung’s gaze and received a friendly soft smile when he looked up.

Taehyung corroborated, “Yeah, they won’t help him. But you’ll meet someone and you’ll meet someone and I’ll meet someone and Yoongi-hyung will stop kicking tires. We’re young and we all have love ahead of us!”

“Spoken like someone who got laid recently,” Yoongi muttered.

“I wouldn’t know,” Jungkook sighed. He turned his head as several people in the crowded restaurant pushed against his back, a woman trying to squeeze between his and another table.

“Sorry,” she murmured and was gone. Jungkook frowned. Damn, he was so touch starved that a woman touching his back really made him tingly like that? Pathetic.

“Take me next time you go,” he said. “I want to meet people too. I’m sitting at home too much.”

“Hand getting sore?”

“Shut up, hyung.”

“Someone’s grumpy…”

Conversation did in fact move away from women --or the lack thereof. It had been a week, so there were other things to share. New music, funny videos, fall events, community gossip. Yoongi’s orchestra was gearing up for a performance they’d all go to; he’d even composed one of the songs being performed. Namjoon was pretty sure his sister had a threesome and her partners ate his entire box of cereal afterwards. Taehyung’s mom had sent him a care package and he was positive Steven had broken into it; he was debating putting laxatives in one and leaving it out as a trap. Jungkook was very glad he’d been warned.

But eventually the pub was closing and they all had work tomorrow, including Yoongi with his day rehearsals.

“You sure you can make it?” Namjoon teased him as they strolled out the front doors, feeling pretty good a couple drinks in.

Yoongi glared, “I’m not actually nocturnal. I just do my best work at night.”

“You’re an owl! It would be understandable!”

“Barn owls are only nocturnal if they live somewhere they might get swarmed if they hunt during the day,” Yoongi scoffed. “Learn outside your own species, Namjoonie.”

“Ouch! I learn all about my friends’ species!”

“Do you ever wonder if we make it all mean more than it does by expecting it to mean more?” Jungkook asked. The alcohol had warmed his blood and he was feeling pretty good right now.

Taehyung slung his arm over his shoulder and teased, “Ah, deep thinker Jungkookie, I like where your brain goes on a Tuesday night.”

“Thanks, hyung, I--” Jungkook broke off. He immediately stopped walking. His hand groped around his pocket, as if it was deep enough the egg could possibly be hiding in there. It wasn’t. He checked his other pocket; he nearly dropped his phone in his haste to check his shirt and underwear and hair, stupid with panic.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asked.

“My egg,” he said. “My egg is gone.”

“Your egg--”

“It’s gone,” he said, voice cracking.

Namjoon touched his shoulder, “No, maybe you left it at the table? Did you have it here in the restaurant?”

“Are you sure you didn’t leave it at home?” Yoongi asked.

“I never leave it at home.”

“Ok ok let’s go check the table,” Namjoon insisted and doubled back. Jungkook hurried after him, ignoring the hostess who told them they were closed.

“He left something at the table,” Yoongi explained in the background while Jungkook sniffed around the table. Everything was cleared away, some servers were starting to move chairs and sweep around them.

“It’s not here,” Jungkook cried, checking over and under and around. “It was here, I had it here!”

“I don’t remember seeing it,” Taehyung offered.

“What if they threw it away?”

“Excuse me,” Yoongi called, chasing after one of the busboys. Jungkook could barely make out his questions as noise buzzed in his ears. Gone, his egg was gone, it was lost, if it wasn’t here it could be dropped in a gutter or in a pile of garbage. Someone might have picked it up or thrown it away. He might never see it again.

“Let’s go check at home,” Taehyung said, grabbing his arm. “I don’t think you even had it here, I don’t remember seeing it.”

“I always have it,” Jungkook mumbled. He felt himself shutting down.

“I’ll check around outside here,” Namjoon offered. “Call me if you find it at home.”

“You walked here right? Let’s look on the way,” Yoongi suggested. It was a good idea. Jungkook felt his energy lift again. Maybe they’d find it. It was just a little blue egg, not of value to anyone except himself. Maybe if someone saw it, they’d just keep walking. Maybe they’d just ignore it, and it would just stay sitting there, and if Jungkook didn’t find it soon, it would still be sitting there when winter set in. The cold would make the glass crack.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find your egg,” Taehyung assured him, looking on the right side of the sidewalk while Yoongi searched the left. Jungkook checked both sides after them, certain they might miss the egg. They wouldn’t look with the same eyes he would. If anyone found his precious egg it would have to be him.

“I’m sure it’s at home in its little box this whole time and we’re worried for nothing,” Yoongi agreed. Jungkook appreciated the “we.” He appreciated they were looking. But he couldn’t say anything yet because panic pitched him too close to crying. His little egg, lost… it was unthinkable.

Jungkook had barely slept. It had been hard work for Yoongi and Taehyung to keep him from wandering out into the night to search the streets completely. Instead he’d torn apart his room and then the rest of the apartment. Chad had laughed about it and Jungkook had thrown himself bodily at the guy, who after getting knocked into the wall by Jungkook and shoved towards his room by Yoongi, decided to go into it and shut the door.

The only thing that got Jungkook moving for work in the morning was the opportunity to scour his path and the building. He almost always walked, so he did this time too after going over the lobby of his building and all around the front path again. Nothing. So he walked slowly to work, head down, gaze fixated on the path, the gutter, the buildings. He peered into every trash can in case someone had found it and not understood the significance, but of course if someone had thrown it away yesterday, it could be gone--

He couldn’t even think it. When he reached his building, he took every possible path he could have taken. He asked at the security desk. He took each elevator, not caring he looked like a crazy person. He took every path he might have taken on his floor and practically turned his desk over, looking anywhere it might have rolled. Nothing.

Belatedly he remembered that yesterday, out of the ordinary, he had gone to the cafe kiosk in the back atrium of the building! He left his desk, ignoring a coworker who called out to him, probably wondering why he’d been at work for over an hour now and accomplished nothing. Whatever, he’d work late, he just needed to find his egg!

Downstairs, he took a quick right out of the elevators, rounded the corner to the elevator and then BAM. Barrelled right into someone. Because he’d been head down, rushing forward, the other person went flying, bag hitting the ground with a thunk and spilling out.

“Hey!” a female voice cried.

“Sorry, I’m in a hurry.” He stepped over her stuff and made it a couple yards before catching himself. Wait. Wait wait he wasn’t the sort of person who just body-slammed strangers in the hall and left them to sort themselves out.

“Fuck,” he grumbled and spun. “Sorry…”

The woman had already turned her back to him, trying to shovel a ton of shit back into the big bag she’d been carrying. There was so much stuff, he didn’t understand how it actually fit in there.

“What’s wrong with you?” she demanded when he dropped down beside her and began gathering the papers that had scattered. “You’re built like a tank! You can’t just go barrelling through the hallways. I thought you’d be soft under those sweaters you wear but you’re made of fucking bricks!”

“Huh?” He paused and looked at her, too confused now to be offended about her pointing out he wasn’t soft. Did he know this woman? Her long, very curly dark hair seemed like something he would remember, or at least the long, dangly gold coin earrings that shook as she moved. She had a freckle right above her eyebrow and even though her shit was dumped out all over the ground, she was smiling. She had very straight, white teeth.

“I’m Rana?” she said, but like a question, like he ought to know this already.

“Do I… know you?”

“Oh. Well, no, but I work in this building too.”

“Lots of people work in this building…”

“Damn, knocking me down twice, huh?”

“Sorry, I’m in a hurry--”

“Yeah, I noticed,” she laughed. “Why? What’s the emergency?”

“I’m looking for something,” he mumbled, waddling in a crouch to grab the last few papers. He didn’t bother even glancing at the printing on them, some kind of report; he couldn’t have cared less.

“I’m good at finding things,” she said, sitting up like he’d said some magic word. “What are you looking for? I can help.”

“What?” he snapped. He wasn’t listening to her. He thrust the papers at her.

“I can help you, I’m really good at finding things. What is it?”

But in the face of this rather pretty woman, he found himself shy to admit he had been so careless with something so important. She wouldn’t understand; no one ever did. None of his hyungs had a special item like it that they needed to carry around and always have within reach to feel ok. Not unless you counted their phones. This weird woman who didn’t know him but thought he knew her wasn’t any different.

“I don’t need your help,” he said, standing quickly. “Watch where you’re going.”

“What? You ran into me!”

He didn’t bother looking back at her. Just resumed his frantic pace towards the coffee kiosks. He checked on and around it. He asked the employee. He checked all around the benches and walkways and rectangular planters and in among the leaves, just in case someone had seen it and done the semi-kind thing of tucking it safely where it wouldn’t get kicked.

No egg.

Jungkook slumped down on a bench and did his best not to cry.

***

Jungkook did not get any work done that day. He needed to work. He could get away with a couple of days of being useless like this but eventually his boss --who didn’t really understand anything-- would realize he wasn’t working. He’d spent his day running through mental checklists of where else he could search.

But around the time he could clock out, he realized he had to accept it. What could he do? Someone had found his precious egg and put it in a trash can. There was nothing he could do about that. Nothing! He should have prevented it in the first place but he hadn’t and now his egg was in the trash. Like father, like son.

There was no reason to stay at work though. His day was over. Not that there was anything worth going home for but he went through the motions, packing his bag, turning off his computer that had already fallen asleep because he wasn’t bothering it. He nodded in response to what he suspected were goodbyes and goodnights from coworkers but he didn’t look at them or really listen to confirm.

The lobby was crowded with people from so many companies in the multi-story building heading out at once. Jungkook moved through them in a fog, barely noticing when he bumped or knocked into people. He slammed his shoulder painfully on the door heading out but didn’t let that stop him.

It meant he also didn’t know how long someone had been yelling for him until his arm was grabbed and he was wrenched to a stop.

“Hey!”

He blinked at the woman from earlier.

“I was yelling for you.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t tell me your name earlier so I had to be generic. But look, I--”

“I’m going home. Bye.”

He turned away but she grabbed his arm and this time shoved her hand against his stomach.

She was holding his egg.

His egg!

“My egg!” he gasped, snatching it out of her hand. It was his egg, the very one, not a replacement. It had that familiar little chip on the bottom, the one he ran his finger over sometimes when he was thinking really hard about something. The swirly blue glass had every wave and curve that he remembered. The etching was there, every letter familiar when he dragged his thumbnail across. The egg was even warm, like she’d carried it tucked in her jacket pocket, just like he did.

“Yeah, I found it,” she said. “I--”

“Where did you find it?” he demanded. “Where was it?”

“It was in the stairwell.”

“I never went in the stairwell,” he said, holding it pressed under his chin as he tried to figure it out. Maybe someone had kicked it? Or it had rolled? But someone would have had to open the door at the same time. And it was heavy; if you kicked it, you’d feel it. Forgetting himself, he rolled it up his chin and smushed it against his mouth until his teeth clicked against the glass.

“What’s the deal with that egg anyway?” the woman asked. “What’s special about it?”

Immediately his shoulders stiffened. His gaze slid to her, remembering she was there. She had, in fact, found his egg and returned it to him. Which meant it was good he’d bumped into her earlier because if he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have known the egg was his and brought it back to him. Maybe she would have thrown it away! Quickly at the thought he shoved the egg down into his pocket, but kept his fingers wrapped tight around it, proving to them both that the egg was safe and secure and back where it belonged. He hadn’t even seen any new nicks or scratches but he’d check for sure once he got home.

“It’s just one of those things, huh?”

He stared at her, trying to follow what she’d said, but he was still reeling from the relief of it all. Fuck. Fuck what a terrifying almost-twenty four hours this had been. But it was ok! He had his egg back! Thank fuck!

“A man of few words, huh?”

“Thank you,” he recalled himself enough to say. “For… finding it.”

She gave him a bright smile and reminded him, “I told you I’m good at finding things.” He didn’t know what else to say. He almost couldn’t move, he was so dizzy with relief. He inched his fingers all over the egg but didn’t feel any new damage. He needed to get home and look, to reassure himself this had been a terrible mistake but he could move past it. All had not been lost.

She was staring at him, he realized. He didn’t even remember her name, but now she tilted her head and her gaze was fixed to the side. He looked over his shoulder to see what she was looking at.

“I like your earrings,” she said, and reached out to flick the silver hoops. “Not many men around here wear them.” It was shockingly intimate, he felt like. He shook his head and took a step back, stunned her hand had been right there, right beside his face.

Flustered, he mumbled, “Thanks,” then turned and ran away before she could do anything weird. He couldn’t wait to let the guys know his egg was back with him and safe and he wasn’t the shittiest guy who couldn’t even keep track of one stone egg.

Fuck. Fuck, he really didn’t know what he would have done if he’d lost it.

MASTERLIST | Next

#hybrid jungkook #hybrid bts #penguin koo #jungkook #jungkook x oc #jk x oc #jeon jungkook x oc #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts smut #jeon jungkook ff #jungkooksmut #jeon jungkook x reader

458 notes · View notes

stutterfly · 3 years

Text

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

�� ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

#smutcentralnet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

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elentiyawhitethorn · 3 years

Text

When Passion Rules the Game | Part Six

CW: NSFW, language

Part Five//Part Seven//Masterlist//2634 words

Aelin chuckled. “I hate you.”

Rowan grinned, playfully squeezing her ass. “I hate you more.”

“I can’t even wrap my mind around it, though. You like the Wendlyn Eagles. It’s just incomprehensible.”

Rowan smirked. “You’re far too dramatic for your own good.”

“Someone has to be. The rest of the world is filled with some boring ass people, I tell you, Rowan.”

He laughed. “Having met with Chaol Westfall, I can agree with you there.”

A snort that was far from womanly left Aelin’s mouth. “I still can’t believe you had to work on that project with him all day. I felt so bad.”

“You didn’t,” Rowan protested. “You were laughing every time I looked at you.”

“I can’t deny that.”

They both laughed. But the humor slowly dissolved as Rowan trailed his hand along Aelin’s side. The light touch turned greedy as Aelin leaned into him, aching for a rougher touch.

His hand reached for her breast and squeezed. Aelin scooted closer and reached her hand down below the sheets.

Rowan had her hand in his grasp in an instant. “Be patient, sweetheart.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” Aelin muttered.

Rowan smirked. “But you need to learn it.”

“Training me to be a good girl for you, hmm?” Aelin scooted closer, the legs that had been casually intertwined now tangled against each other heatedly. “But don’t you want me to make you feel good?” She gave her best puppy dog eyes.

Rowan leaned in and nipped her lower lip. “If you ask nicely.”

“Please let me touch you,” Aelin rasped, fluttering her eyelashes.

Rowan gave her throat a quick squeeze, Aelin letting out a noise of content as he choked her. Then he let go off her entirely, and Aelin moved her hand farther under the sheet.

Rowan’s cock was half-hard when Aelin wrapped her slender fingers around it. He squeezed his eyes shut as Aelin started pumping her hand. She was thoroughly enjoying the small grunt that left his lips as he tried to hold back a groan.

Rowan thrust his hips into Aelin’s hand. She trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck as she pumped her hand. His cock hardened in her grip, and Aelin felt heat start to build between her legs.

Just when Aelin twisted her wrist and drew a growl out Rowan, he stopped her by flipping their bodies, pinning Aelin underneath him. He didn’t enjoy being the one squirming at someone else’s touch.

“Rowan,” she pleaded. He moved her arms, pinning her wrists over her head with one hand, and brought the other down between her legs. But Rowan only parted her folds with a finger, stroking gently. Aelin bucked her hips, but he only withdrew his hand.

“Please,” she whined. “Please, please, please.”

Rowan chuckled against her skin, licking a stripe up her neck and readjusting his hips so that Aelin was even more trapped under his body.

He slipped his finger inside her entrance, then pulled it back out immediately. “Beg me. Beg me to fuck you.” He roughly fingered her clit, then pulled his hand away entirely.

Aelin complied. Please was the only word in her vocabulary as she whimpered for Rowan to make her feel good. He finger-fucked her for a few minutes before he decided she was behaving well enough to come. Rowan pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive bud of flesh. It didn’t take much for Aelin to be overcome by a massive wave of pleasure.

And when he fucked her, when he flicked her clit as he slammed into her, she came, not even close to satisfied. He didn’t stop moving not just until he came as well, but until she had a third orgasm. When he finally let up, Aelin dropped into a deep slumber, exhausted from his attentions.

—

They were back in the bar. Aelin was talking to a man, a man with silver hair and pine-green eyes. She didn’t know his name, but she wanted to.

“I’m new in town,” he said to her, but Aelin wasn’t concerned with the hazy lust clouding his eyes or the way his gaze dropped to her cleavage. She was thinking about how nice he was, how smart and kind and funny. She didn’t want to drag him in the bathroom, she wanted to tell him that she lo—

An obnoxious beeping filled the room, filled Aelin’s head, turned the man into a blur. Aelin snapped awake, scrambling into a sitting position. Her alarm was going off.

She glanced over at Rowan, drowsily rubbing his eyes beside her, still lying down. “You okay, baby?”

Aelin let out a long exhale, trying to recall what her dream had been about. Rowan, maybe?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, assessing the sincerity of her statement, then nodded and said, “We should get up. Work’s in an hour.”

Aelin steadied her breathing—what had her dream been?—and expressed her agreement. They climbed out of bed and headed around the house: eating, making coffee, brushing teeth, showering. It had been three months since they’d become friends with benefits, and they had toothbrushes and extra clothing at each other’s homes. It made things much more convenient, not having to wait until the weekend to hook up.

Aelin headed out a few minutes before Rowan, both because arriving at the same time could be suspicious if anyone noticed, and because she had no reason to wait for him. She called a farewell, knowing he had a key to lock her door with. Again, for convenience purposes.

Despite that and the fact that they cuddled often after sex, naked and talking about football teams, their relationship really wasn’t abnormal. They had just become good friends.

Aedion headed into her office only moments after Aelin herself arrived. He looked at her, frowned, and said, “You have a hickey.”

Aelin refused to blush, cursing herself for not even bothering to look in the mirror other than for a quick hair brush and some light lipstick. She merely leaned back in her chair, threaded her fingers in front of her on the desk, and said, “We have an issue with the camera in the main elevator.”

Aedion sighed and took a seat. “We’ll have it fixed by lunchtime. Still playing with your boy toy?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Aedion.”

He snorted. “Me? You’re the one—”

“We are not having this conversation again,” Aelin interrupted. “Especially not here. Go fix the camera.” She tended to be relatively kind to her employees, and merely icy to the ones who pissed her off, but having grown up with Aedion, she tended to have a shorter temper when he was around.

A huff was all she got in reply before Aedion stood. He left, shutting the door gently—they had a silent agreement not to let their petty arguments disturb anyone else—and leaving Aelin alone. She pulled out her phone and swiped to the camera app, then took a look at her neck.

There was a dark bruise on the side, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief. That would be easy to cover with her hair, unable to do anything less temporary during work. She pulled her blonde locks over that side and made a mental note to keep them there. Good thing she hadn’t passed many people on the way in.

Then she thought back to what had went down when Aedion had first walked in on her and Rowan, oh so long ago.

—

“What the fuck are you doing, Aelin?”

Aelin tensed. This wasn’t going to be fun.

She glanced over at Rowan, who looked part defensive and part confused. He probably didn’t realize Aedion was her cousin, though he might recognize him vaguely from work.

“You can go, Rowan. I’ll take care of this.”

He hesitated, looking back and forth between the pair. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I can handle him.”

Aedion snorted at that, but Aelin didn’t dignify him with a glance.

“Okay, but I…” Rowan trailed off.

Right. Aelin was still wearing his shirt.

“Um”—Aelin sent Aedion a smile—“We’ll be right back.” He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and he flashed a saccharine grin.

Mentally dying from embarrassment, Aelin grabbed Rowan’s wrist and dragged him down the hallway. Not bothering to say anything to him, she yanked off his shirt, tossed it to him, and opened her drawer.

“So that was… a friend?”

Aelin yanked on some underwear and sweats. She looked in a different drawer for a t-shirt. “My cousin. Aedion. He works security.”

“Ah.” What was different about Rowan’s tone after she said that? What was he thinking?

Aelin turned back around, fully dressed now. Rowan’s gaze was fixed on the wall, rather than watching her as she dressed. Apparently all desire had disappeared, replaced by awkwardness.

“He won’t tell anyone.” Rowan’s eyes snapped to Aelin. “He’s very protective of me, but as annoyed as he’ll undoubtedly be, he won’t say anything.”

Rowan nodded. “Good.”

They didn’t say anything more. Aelin nodded. Rowan nodded, too.

“Well,” Aelin said finally. “See you at work on Monday.”

Rowan laughed lightly. “Yeah, see you.”

They left the bedroom and Rowan walked ahead of Aelin to the door. He gave a tight nod to Aedion, who didn’t return the gesture. Aelin sighed.

Once Rowan was out the door, Aelin smiled brightly. “Take a seat.”

“I’m good here.”

She ignored his tone and plumped onto the couch. “Want anything to eat?”

“What are you doing?”

“That’s none of your business, Aed.”

He frowned. “He works for you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Aelin snapped.

Aedion pushed off the wall and stalked forward, dropping on the couch next to her. “You’re his boss. He’s probably just trying to get a promotion.”

A scowl crossed Aelin’s features. “You don’t even have any idea what this is,” she hissed.

“Then enlighten me, please.” Aedion’s growing temper matched her own. “Do you love him?”

Aelin scoffed. “Of course not. I just met the man a few weeks ago. Besides, that would be inappropriate.”

“That would be inappropriate,” Aedion repeated incredulously. “And this fucking isn’t?”

She huffed. “Rowan is well aware that this won’t be affecting his career at all, positively or negatively. It stays out of work, okay? There’s no reason to be pestering me about it.”

“It’s wrong, Aelin.”

“It is gods-damn not,” she snapped. “I am an adult, and he is an adult, and if we want to fuck, we will fuck. There’s your laptop. Take it and leave.”

Aedion did no such thing. “You know I only care about you.”

“If you care about me, you will mind your own business.”

Aedion sighed and stood up. “I’ll talk you on Monday. Lunch, remember?”

Aelin wanted to yell at him, her stubborn demeanor making it difficult to lose her anger, but if he was taking the steps to end this argument, she could do the same. “Fine. See you Monday.” Her voice was only slightly less sharp, but the words were enough. Aedion smiled in acknowledgment and left.

—

So much had changed since then, but Aedion’s attitude toward the pair’s out-of-work activities was not one of them. He glared at Rowan whenever they were in the same room, trying to find something to fault him for, but there never was anything. During their time in the office, Rowan remained respectful and kind, exactly as she’d requested of him all those days ago. He truly was a good man.

Drawing her thoughts away from Rowan, Aelin reached for a pen and got to work.

It was an hour later that Rowan joined her, starting on their major workload for the planning of their newest fundraising activity, as well as the arduous task of budgeting. Having such an involved roll in many of Aelin’s largest tasks, she had a small table designated for him against the wall, if ever they needed more space. Other thank that, he just used the opposite side of Aelin’s own desk.

Neither of them mentioned this morning, as was usual.

It may have been Aelin’s overactive imagination, but Rowan seemed distant today. Distracted about something or other. He brushed her off when Aelin asked if he was okay, and she let him have some space after that.

By the time the end of the workday rolled around, Aelin was exhausted. It was Friday, which meant she’d just spent the past five days pouring her sweat and blood into each project and task. She did work on the weekends, but the little loads she did at home could hardly compare to the stress of the week.

Aelin always worked later than everybody else; she wanted to get as much done as she could, and she made sure her workers, if not herself, had good hours. It was nearly seven-thirty when she filed away the last document.

When she came out of her office to find an empty floor, vacated entirely by Elide and all of the other staff, she was surprised. She wasn’t surprised that all of her workers were gone. That was entirely expected. She was surprised that Rowan was gone.

Not that he was supposed to be here; even though he worked a bit later some days, he usually left before her. But sometimes he waited up for her, in case she was in the mood. Well aware of the fact that they had fucked last night and they didn’t do it every day or anything, Aelin mentally shook herself for being concerned about Rowan’s absence. Still, some of the uneasiness remained.

Rowan had a pretty good position in the company, and as such, he had his own, albeit small, office. Aelin peered in just to be sure he was gone. Only a janitor, Arobynn, was in the office, and she waved at him. He gruffly nodded.

Trying not to reprimand herself out loud and look like a lunatic in front of the janitor, Aelin headed to the elevator. She was bothered that she was so caught up in Rowan that him not being there, even when it was entirely expected, made her lonely. It was just the sex she missed, of course.

Aelin impatiently tapped her pen against the handrail the whole elevator ride down, and when the doors finally opened, she hurried to her car, feeling she needed a nap. And maybe a whiskey.

—

The weekend passed in a blur. Aelin texted Rowan once, but he hadn’t responded. She hadn’t pestered him after that, knowing full well that he was allowed to have a life and she didn’t want to be desperate and annoy him into coming over. But she couldn’t deny the rapidly growing kernel of excitement resting in the pit of her stomach as Aelin headed to work on Monday.

“Hello, Elide,” Aelin called merrily, waving as she passed her.

Elide just sent a bemused smile to her friend.

Aelin marched toward her office, peering through the windows to find… a man that was not Rowan. Backpedaling because Aelin didn’t want to meet a client unprepared, she stepped away before he could see her. Then she made her way back to Elide.

“Who is that in my office?”

Elide frowned. “I sent you an email about it last night.”

“Last night? The last work I did was yesterday afternoon.”

Elide sighed, as if Aelin should have been checking her email all weekend long. She always had such high expectations. “That’s Nox Owens, the replacement.”

“Replacement for whom?” Aelin asked warily.

Elide blinked. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Who didn’t tell me what?” Aelin crossed her arms.

“We had to find a new coordinations director over the weekend. Mr. Whitethorn tendered his immediate resignation last Friday.”

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@autumnbabylon

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@pagemasters

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@theysayitscrazy

@yesdreamblog

#rowaelin #tog #when passion rules the game #my writing

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

Weight on My Shoulders

A very self-indulgent prequel to my not so kinky soulmate AU (Tumblr/AO3).

Any references to events or messages involving my own darling soulmate @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde is purely coincidental. I promise we are much more needy than this.

Ship: Geraskier (pre-romantic)

CW: Far too much pining, mentions of anxiety, long distance friendships

_____

Jaskier pouted as he wrapped himself up in his weighted blanket and duvet. Even with the additional weight he was struggling to sleep properly, but it did help. What would really help was a hug from his soulmate, but that was off the table. Geralt was a bazillion lightyears away, all the way in America, and Jaskier was stuck in miserable, grey England. They’d been talking online for two years, and the distance wasn’t getting any easier. If anything it was getting worse, and Jaskier wasn’t sure how much more he could take of it.

“Jask, you’re falling asleep, love,” Geralt hummed from the too bright screen that was lighting up his room. “Go to bed.”

“I’m in bed,” Jaskier huffed.

“Go to sleep, we can talk more in the morning.”

Jaskier whined, sinking further into his blanket burrito. “But I have work again tomorrow, I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk to you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Geralt sighed, smiling warmly at him through the screen, “But I will be here when you wake, I promise.”

“I’d rather you be here with me.”

It was pathetic. Jaskier knew it was pathetic, but he just felt a warmth in his chest, a ghost of Geralt’s arms around him.

“I’m always here” Geralt hummed in his mind.

Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s mental embrace, letting himself soak in the glow of his soulmate’s warmth. He was struggling to keep his eyes open which didn’t really matter but he only had a few hours each day to video call his soulmate and he hated wasting any of them. It had been worse the last few days. Essi and Pris had announced they were going to honeymoon in New York, and whilst they wouldn’t see Geralt, they would be a whole lot closer than Jaskier had ever been. He’d even considered asking to tag along in their suitcases so he could afford the trip to the States.

He just missed Geralt so fucking much.

“I love you,” he mumbled again, wiping the tears from his eyes that he hadn’t even realised had formed. “I love you more than Dandelion.”

He tried to laugh but it sounded weak to his own ears. Dandelion was a musician, just like he was hoping to be, a beautiful tall elegant man with gorgeous long blond curls, and a laugh that could outshine a thousand suns. He was also Jaskier’s celebrity crush and inspiration. Jaskier had been obsessed since he was sixteen, secretly hoping that Dandelion was his soulmate. Not much had changed since meeting Geralt in his dreams. He was still completely obsessed with the musician, only his daydreams tended to include Geralt as well, a fact that his soulmate thankfully found endearing.

“Wow,” Geralt chuckled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s high praise.”

“It’s true! I would renounce my love of Dandelion for mere seconds in your arms,” Jaskier insisted, “and then I would never let you go and you’d be stuck with me.”

“It would be hard to work with a Jaskier in my arms.”

Jaskier scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “You’ll manage.”

“Sleep, Jask,” Geralt’s words were a low hum, added weight to his blanket and Jaskier could feel himself slipping. He supposed it was only a matter of time really, it was nearly midnight and Jaskier had to get up at an ungodly hour for work. “For me.”

And really that was just unfair. Geralt knew that Jaskier would do anything for him. He was just that desperate for attention, although despite his slightly less dramatic personality, Geralt could be equally needy, if you knew how to read him.

“That’s cheating,” Jaskier whined.

“I never said I play fair.”

“Betrayed by my own soulmate,” Jaskier pouted as Geralt hung up the call and his tiny little bedroom fell into darkness. Without the light of his phone, Jaskier was fighting a losing battle. “I love you, dear heart.”

“I love you too, a lot. Too much.”

Jaskier scoffed, turning to hug his pillow. “Never too much, never enough. Goodnight, my love”

“Night, Jask.”

_______

When he awoke the next morning, Jaskier had a notification on his phone. It wasn’t unusual. Geralt often left him little messages, pictures of Roach, or things that had reminded him of Jaskier throughout the day. Sometimes, if Jaskier was lucky, Geralt would leave him gifs of Dandelion, and on even rarer occasions, awkward selfies that were never flattering despite Geralt’s godlike appearance. Jaskier treasured every single one. But no, that morning he had a more unusual notification.

It was from Lambert.

They’d talked a couple of times, mostly in a group chat whenever Geralt wanted to include Jaskier on family film night or playing games online, which Jaskier was shockingly terrible at, especially the shooting games the boys preferred. Lambert had never DM’d Jaskier before though. There had never been an occasion to, so why bother?

So Jaskier was feeling more than a little anxious about clicking on the message.

“Geralt?” he tested, although he was pretty positive that his soulmate was asleep. Geralt would usually at least say good morning when he was awake, but there had been nothing but silence through their soulbond.

It came as no surprise when Geralt didn’t answer.

His phone buzzed again in his hand, another message from Lambert.

“Bollocks,” Jaskier groaned, sitting up in bed so he could find his glasses. They were buried under his blanket and looking a little bent out of shape but that was nothing new.

L - Guess who’s coming to England on a business trip!

Jaskier’s heart jumped and hope soared through his body, a flutter of wings in his chest as his pulse raced, only to be destroyed in the next second.

L - It’s not Geralt, shit. I should have started with that.

- It’s me.

- I’m coming to England. Found out this morning. All expenses paid. - I’ll be in London for a week, if you want to meet up?

Jaskier stared at his phone. He was excited, of course he was but he couldn’t help the ache in his heart. His friend was coming to England. Geralt’s family was coming to England. That was one step closer to meeting his soulmate in person, but it wasn’t far enough. He felt like shit. Guilt tore through him. Lambert was clearly excited about his news and yet all Jaskier could think of was how he wasn’t Geralt.

Maybe he could give Lambert something to take back to Geralt. They’d sent letters and parcels back and forth but it would be different like this, and he should be excited. He should be over the fucking moon.

And truth be told, if he hadn’t felt so incredibly needy already he probably would have been more excited, but his heart was feeling fragile. Jaskier had spent the last week or so wondering if Geralt loved him back in a romantic way, or whether they would just be the dearest of friends. Whatever it was, Jaskier would be fine. That’s how soulbonds worked. They would be perfect for one another, platonically or romantically but Jaskier fell hard and fast.

Surely Geralt would love him back in the same way, right?

Jaskier was too afraid to ask at this point. He just kept saying “I love you” and hoping that Geralt would hear the truth. Neither of them had spoken about dating other people, but Jaskier knew there was no hope for him. Perhaps the odd fling, but he’d tried that once and without the connection he had with Geralt, he just wasn’t really into it.

He sighed dramatically and picked up his phone.

J - That’s fucking brilliant!!

He added a stream of emojis for good luck.

J - and all expenses paid for?! Drinks are on you, darling x

L - You should be so lucky.

- Pay for your own drink you cheapskate.

Jaskier squinted at the screen, pushing his fringe from his face. His tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and he ignored the dryness in his throat. Logically, he knew he should get up and get some water but his bed was comfy and he didn’t quite want to face the day yet, especially as Geralt was asleep. Things just felt heavier when Geralt was asleep.

He sighed again and tapped out a message.

J - Can you sneak Geralt in your suitcase?

- I’ll pay for the luggage fee <3

Lambert started typing immediately and Jaskier waited with bated breath. It had been a joke but there was always a chance that Lambert would be allowed a plus one… right?

L - I’m afraid not

- I’m sorry. I know you want to meet.

- Geralt is just as upset. The bastard hasn’t spoken to me all day.

Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh at that. He’d sensed something had been bothering his soulmate, especially when Geralt was the one to insist they video-called before Jaskier went to bed, but it was nice to hear that he wasn’t the only one being pathetic and unreasonably grumpy. Sometimes it felt like Jaskier felt everything and Geralt was just putting up with him because he didn’t have much choice. In his heart, Jaskier knew that wasn’t true, that Geralt just showed his love in a more sedate manner.

Opposites really do attract.

He sighed and switched chats, typing out a quick message to his soulmate.

J - I miss you. I love you. I will be unbearably needy today. Sorry!

Flipping his phone to the camera app, Jaskier snapped a quick selfie. He looked like a mess of stubble, glasses and ratty hair… but Geralt never seemed to mind.

J - Isn’t your soulmate the best?

- Love me?

- I love you

- I already said that but it’s true.

Jaskier cursed and threw his phone onto the end of the bed before remembering that he hadn’t answered Lambert yet. He pouted and scrambled to find his phone again, struggling against the weight of his blanket. The blanket did wonders for his ADHD but it could be a pain in the arse to move sometimes. Reluctantly, he switched back to Lambert’s chat.

J - I can’t wait to show you around! Ooh we could go to the natural history museum, I’m sure some of the stuffed animals look just like you! Or maybe a show!

L - Not sure how much I’’ll be able to hang out, but we’ll have to get a photo to show Geralt.

- He’ll probably be jealous.

- But he’ll manage.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. Siblings could be the worst. He’d never really gotten on well with his own sisters but he could imagine having Lambert for a brother would be a hundred times worse. Still, he smiled at his phone. Geralt would be jealous. Geralt wanted to meet him. That was a good thing, no matter how much Jaskier pined to see his soulmate over Lambert.

This was a start.

One day.

They would meet one day, and then Jaskier would never have to let him go. He just had to be patient… for now.

#the witcher #geraskier #soulmates #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #lambert #wolfie's witcher writing

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kagsluvr · 3 years

Text

˗ˏˋsunny day dates! ˎˊ˗

-> ft. bokuto, akaashi, kuroo

genre: fluff

tw/cw: food mention

;; just the outdoor dates they take you on <3 this was def inspired by the pretty weather that my city was having a while back lol

BOKUTO: he would definitely suggest the idea of going to an amusement park. he’ll bring it up a day before, checking the weather app and seeing how the next day’s forecast is bright and sunny. then, on the day of, he gets up before you, ecstatic for the day ahead of him. you wake up to him lightly shaking you from your slumber and him whining, “cmon babe, we gotta get there before all the lines get too long!” the day is spent wonderfully, but with a lot of him dragging him around because he claimed ‘you were walking too slow’. you’d definitely get exhausted but he makes it up to by saying “i’ll buy you [insert staple amusement park treat here] after this ride!” with a convincing pout on his face. it’s honestly so cute. you guys walk around the entire park with such joyful expressions and hands intertwined with one another that you guys earn envious looks from other people because of how cute you guys look, delighted in each other’s presence. the day is perfectly ended with the nightly firework show occurring while you guys are cuddled up on a bench, sharing a warm churro.

AKAASHI: you wake up to the 10 am sun shining through your sheer curtains and to the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen of you and your boyfriend’s shared apartment. you make your way out the room to see akaashi in the kitchen making what looks like your cup of morning coffee. you make your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek on his back. a bit shocked by the sudden touch, he jumps a little and turns around to cup your cheeks and press light kisses all over your face. you then spot a basket full of snacks and appetizers you love that he’s prepared while you were sleeping. he then informs you about the picnic date he had planned for later that day. he ends up taking you guys to a park further away from one that you guys typically go to. it’s a different scenery, but makes you feel just as comfortable. sitting at a shady spot, under an oak tree but still occasionally feeling the warmth of the sun when it peers through the swaying branches and leaves. it’s a perfect way to take a break from the busy life he has, akaashi thinks, and he couldn’t think of a better person to spend these serene moments with.

KUROO: kuroo would take you on a ‘spontaneous’ trip to the zoo for the afternoon. it was a bit odd but, nothing new in your guys’ relationship. the weather was perfect, sun shining but occasionally being covered by the clouds—not too hot but still pretty warm with a slight breeze. he definitely makes a ton of jokes, comparing you to the animals while saying stuff like, “haha, that looks like you.”, earning him a punch on the arm. he takes a bunch of photos of all the animals, and is in utter awe when you guys encounter a wandering peacock on the way to the flamingos. he runs up to it, as close as he can get, whilst abusing the camera click button on his phone, until the peacock gets startled and runs away in the opposite direction, eventually disappearing into a patch of bushes. fortunate for you, you catch this entire thing on video, a memory to look back on when you want to get a good laugh. his enthusiasm at the zoo, reminding you of how a 5-year-old would act, makes you grateful to have such a funny and lively boyfriend.

—

—taglist: @oikalove @nvritoshi @admiringlove @tetsurov (send an ask to be added!)

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Seconding the 'mob guys watching over Chris for Paul's suggestion!

CW: References to murder/mob organization stuff, references to parental death, grief, referenced past whump of a minor

Every Tuesday at 9 am, just like clockwork, Sean Malley lumbers into a coffeeshop nestled into the corner of a flat featureless strip mall. Contrasting to the pale concrete nothingness of its surrounding, the little coffeeshop is painted a warm, rich brown along the exterior, with heavy platers spilling over with purple and yellow flowers every few feet until Sean reaches the door.

It’s a welcome bit of individuality along this ring of small strip malls and larger big-box stores kept out of the city proper by a pile of zoning laws too draconian to fight. He’s been coming here for ten years now, more or less, and has seen the little coffeshop through its earliest days struggling for business right to now, where he feels reasonably certain he’ll be dead long before they close this place for good.

He moves inside, the light immediately warm and slightly dimmed. The scent in the air of freshly roasted coffee beans and baked goods. The cannolis they sell came from him, Sean’s proud of that - his wife had a favorite recipe and he’d given it to them after she passed, hoping for one batch for the service. They’d just kept making them, having one ready for him when he popped in, and... well, they’ve sold them ever since. Even call them Christa’s Cannolis, handwritten in cursive on a little placard. She’d have been tickled pink, he thinks sometimes, to see it.

One of his knees comes and goes as it pleases these days, giving his step a bit of a shuffle-scrape. He’s smiling, though, and humming as he goes.

Life is good for Sean Malley, all things considered.

Truth be told, he hadn't actually expected to live this long. Keeping close to Conor and his family had paid off in the early days - just as his instincts had kept him safe when the Garden erupted in in-fighting, too. When the Clean-Up happened, during the Garden’s most vicious in-fighting, Sean had seen half the men he’d watched start as snot-nosed dumbasses taken out one by one, clearing the way for Conor’s fucking grandson to make his play for power.

Those kids who’d run lookout gigs and then moved on to guard duty or work with the cargo coming in... one by one those kids-turned-adults, with families of their own, had been removed from the picture. Fifteen, all told, a bloodbath stretched out over six months - sixteen, of course, if you count how Paul’s murder went all wrong.

The one comfort had been watching Conor’s grandson lay the groundwork for his own comeuppance the whole time - promising favors for loyalty and then killing the ones he’d promised those favors to. That’s no way to start yourself as leader, and... well.

Trash had been taken out, in the end. Riley Higgs had gotten rid of the poison - and the poison’s friends - and his crew’s a damn sight better than Conor’s grandson’s people had been.

Riley, for one thing, understands that an organization like the Garden works, in the end, on trust. On being a family.

Don’t kill your family without a good damn reason, now do you?

Now Riley... he had a good reason. And Sean had made sure Riley Higgs knew a few very important facts that kept him on the man’s good side, and very much alive when the dust settled.

Even if he had did have to live with a bum knee. And back. And his hip’s started twinging every time it rains...

"Morning, Mr. Malley!" His favorite barista calls out, giving him a wave from behind the counter. She's a pretty thing, just cute as a button. Probably in her late twenties but when you’re as old as Sean is, everyone looks like a child playing pretend.

Still, it always brings a bit of sun in the old man's day to see her bright pink hair before he ever takes his seat. He always tells her she should move on from here, do something with her life other than serve old men their coffee and watch them while away the hours.

But I like it here, Melody always replies, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. I like our regulars, too. Besides, this place pays better than the job I’d get with my actual degree.

"G'morning to you, Melody!" He calls back, moving to have a seat in his usual spot, sinking gratefully into the plush armchair by the bookshelf in the corner. His favorite coffee table book, a heavy thing full of photos of World War II, is already laid out on the side table next to it, bookmarked where he’d left off last week. "Busy day, today?"

Melody is already heading his way, coffee in hand just how he likes it, one of Christa’s Cannolis on a small plate in the other. Sean’s doctor has been on him about cutting out sugar, and he’s done it just about everywhere else, but he still has his cannoli on Tuesdays. Christa had been so proud of herself when she’d mastered that recipe...

"Not really,” Melody says with a shrug, breaking into his thoughts. “Just the usual morning rush and a couple college kids, wandered outside but they left their drinks, I figure they’ll come back. One of 'em looks like he got mauled by a real weak bear."

Sean feigns surprise. "Oh, does he now?" He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs happily. "Not too hot. You had it out already, didn't you?"

"I saw your car pull into the lot," Melody says, giving a little it's nothing gesture. “I knew you’d be in, so I kept an eye out for you.”

"You're a doll, Melody, and this place would be lost without you." He presses the twenty-dollar bill into her hand, and when she protests, he shakes his head, adds another ten, and closes her hand firmly around the cash. "Take it, take it. I'm an old man on my own, who've I got to spend it on, huh?"

"You're not that old, Mr. Malley," Melody sighs, an old song and dance between them. “You’ve got grandkids who could use it, too, you know.”

"Ha! Trust that my grandkids never want for anything, Melody. Besides, live the life I've lived, and sixty feels like eighty-two. Go on, then. Cilly'll be along in a bit."

He sits back to drink his coffee as she heads back behind the counter, watching through the front window the cars that pass along the highway, the scattering of people getting in and out of their own vehicles in the parking lot. It's a perfect, and perfectly normal, Tuesday morning. Just like any other.

A perfectly normal Tuesday where one creature of habit makes it a point to get a quick look at another.

A flash of red catches his eye, and he frowns, watching a bright red Northern cardinal alight on the bench placed outside the shop, preening one wing briefly and then seeming to look towards the lot.

Sean follows its gaze, silently chastising himself for being so utterly taken by a simple bird, but... Northern cardinals are more or less unheard of around here, especially in the city. This one seems to cock its head in his direction.

"Someone," He mutters to himself, "is a bit lost."

There's a peal of laughter, as the door opens, the little bell on top chiming to announce them, and there they are.

Two young people walking inside, heads tilted together. One of them has thick, wavy black hair, one of those haircuts the younger people like so much now, shaved on the sides but long on top. The younger guys in the Family wear their hair like that now and then.

Sean thinks he liked it better when everyone kept things neat and tidy, but times change, and the Garden can't stagnate just because an old timer's got opinions. Riley’s take is he’d rather is people look like they could be anybody anywhere, and Sean has to admit the kind of haircut he’d like to see would stick out like a sore thumb.

Both of them are wearing all black head to toe, the black-haired one in a tank top and baggy pants, a large yellow lightning bolt on a cord settled just below their collarbone. Honestly, if he gets past the hair thing, they’re cute as a button, too.

Really, though, he’s not here because of them.

He’s here to get a good look at the young man walking in beside them.

It’s funny - it’s been nine - ten? - years since he last saw Paul Higgs alive, the day before he and his sweet Ronnie were gunned down in their own home in the night... but tears still prick at the corners of Sean’s eyes when he see the ghost of Paul in his son’s narrow face.

There’d been a joke when the little one first came into the world, that somehow Paul and Ronnie had put together a child where her genetics simply skipped out entirely. He’d been a little clone of Paulie from the start, and he’s different as a man than he’d been as a child lining toy cars up at their feet in the warehouse on Saturdays when Ronnie needed a break.

Sean pulls his phone out, idly scrolling - his daughter had helped him to get Facebook and a couple other things besides, including some kind of app that had his favorite card games. He pretends now to be fascinated by something he sees, but in truth he pulls his camera up and starts recording.

“It, it, it could change everything,” Paulie’s boy is saying, breathlessly excited, hands moving through the air in a blend of gesture and general happiness. “You see? Everything! Make it, it, it-it safer, make... make things better.”

“I know, I know,” The other one replies, deep voice warm and thick with love, and Sean sighs, missing his Christa now more than ever. He consoles himself with a bite of cannoli. “I already told you I’m in, Chris, okay? I’m going to help you. You don’t have to sell me on it.”

Tristan ducks his head with a shy smile, and boy if he isn’t Paul’s spitting image in that, too. Paulie hadn’t smiled much, not like his kid does - maybe that’s what he got from Ronnie - but in a smile like that, well... you could see where he got it from. If you’d known Paul, of course.

Which the kid didn’t, not anymore.

“It could, um, be dangerous though.” They’re barely audible now as they go back to where they left their still-steaming drinks, sitting down on a nearby couch. “Nat’s worried. And, and, and you know Jake-”

“Chris, you could walk across a crosswalk when the light starts blinking and Jake would still worry about you,” The other one teases. Sean knows their name, but right now it won’t quite come to mind, lingering on the tip of is tongue, never quite landing. “It’ll be public, yeah-”

“Telling everyone who... who, who I am.” Tristan starts tapping his fingers on his pants, a peculiar finger-twist-tap-tap-tap gesture that Sean once knew as well as anyone, when the boy was small. But it’s the words, with a hint of nervousness lining them, that get his attention. “The... the whole world’s going to, to, to to-to-... to... to know about Tristan Higgs.”

Now that gets Sean’s attention. He cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and starts a new one. It takes work not to sit up, or drop his cannoli, or in some other way give himself away.

He knows, then?

How?

Sean looks down at his phone, looking over the scar on Paul’s boy’s forehead, the only remaining evidence of what had been much more visible the first couple times they’d seen him out after it happened. Sean and Cilly had figured maybe a fight - people get into them, really. Paul wasn’t exactly gentle as a lamb, and why would his boy be?

But now... he wondered. His instincts told him the two were related, and of course he knew from the time they’d worked with WRU pretty closely under the table that those memory things they did sometimes failed. Sean had done a fixer job once for someone whose pet had recovered memories too fast and killed a servant in a panic...

“Oh, Paul,” Sean murmurs. “What’d your boy do, hm?”

“I’m, I’m going to to to t-... to tell everyone who I am,” Paul’s boy is saying, leaning forward and taking the hands of the other one in his own, squeezing them tight. “I’m... will, will, will you come with me? When, when I... so someone’s there?”

“What? Holy shit, Chris, go to the Olympics? With you?” They inhale and exhale, blowing some hair from their eyes, and smile. “You should take someone who knows more than I do about all that stuff, Chris, take Jake, or-”

“Jake has has to stay here. To, to protect the house. But... will you come with me?”

Sean cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and this time adds a message.

Olympics are in Chicago this year. What’s Paul Jr. planning?

He feels eyes on him and glances up to find Tristan looking over at him, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Sean’s been watching him for years, popping up in places, the way you sometimes see the same faces at the corner store, the mom-and-pop, a coffeeshop like this one. Now, he watches Tristan look him over, knowing he’s familiar but not knowing why. Part of him, with a pinprick of an old, old grief, wishes Paul’s little boy would recognize him now.

Most of him knows it’s better if he doesn’t.

Tristan looks away, and goes back to talking, but his voice lowers and now Sean can’t quite pick up what he’s saying beyond a few scattered words. He gets a couple photos of the lovebirds with their head together, sipping coffee, and sends those on to Riley, too.

Job done, he settles back to finish his cannoli and drink his coffee. Tristan and-... Laken, his name suddenly supplies, only an hour after he’d started trying to remember it - get up and leave, Tristan’s arm around Laken’s waist.

Good for the kid, Sean thinks, with a smile. By this age Paul had an elementary school son running around, but you know, it’s good to take your time on these things, and it’s nice to see that all the shit they’ve had to stand back and watch still wraps up nicely into Paul’s boy living a pretty nice life indeed.

His phone dings just as Cilly enters - right on time at 10, like clockwork - and he glances down to open the message from Riley.

I’ll get one of our guys to look into it. This might give us the out on the business I don’t want to be in I’ve been looking for. Kid looks good, looks like Paul. Family genes run deep.

Sean greets Cilly, even older than him but a sight more spry, and glances out the window. The bird’s gone from the bench, of course. The day is bright and shining.

In Laken’s car, they’re halfway back to the house Laken shares with their roommates when Chris suddenly sits straight up. “Mr. Malley,” He breathes out, green eyes widening.

Laken jumps - he’d been silent, preoccupied and in thought - and nearly jerks the car into a curb. “Damn, Chris! You scared me. What’d you say?”

“The old guy, in, in, in the the the the-the-... the coffeeshop, who kept looking at, at me.” Chris rocks forward, hands on the dashboard, his eyes staring ahead but not at the road, they’re looking far ahead... or behind himself, back in time and not space, when and not where. “His name’s Mr. Malley. I, I, I knew-... my dad knew, my, my, my dad, my dad-”

He winces, the headache splitting him apart, and Laken hits their turn signal, pulling into the parking lot of a generic fast food place, swinging into a parking space and turning to look at him.

“Chris? You okay?”

Chris’s face has gone pale, cold sweat breaking out. It still happens, sometimes, and when they lean over to touch his shoulder he flinches back from them, instinctively.

Laken exhales. “Okay. Ride it out, Chris. Let the memory go if it’s hurting, it’ll come back to you. They all come back now.”

“No! No, I, I, I want-... Mr. Malley knew my dad, I went to-... work, with, with him sometimes, his his his wife babysat me, I... I know him. I knew him. I knew-” He turns to look at them, and they fight the urge to try and touch him again.

Not yet.

“Do you... do you think, think, think he knew me?”

Laken swallows. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t he have said something, if he recognized you? If he was your dad’s friend? Are you absolutely sure that-”

“Yes, I’m, I’m sure. I know it was him. I, I, I know, he, he, he gave me me me Dinotopia books... for Christmas one year...” Chris jerked in a breath and let it out again, hands going up over his head, folding himself in half until his forehead rested on the dashboard, pressed to the cool molded plastic. “He, he, he, he came to their funeral, he hugged me, he said, you’re too young to to to to have to lose so much, and everyone said-... everyone said stuff I hated but but but not him, he said, he said-”

“Chris, please, don’t hurt yourself doing this-”

“He said grief gets worse before it gets better, and and and and he said-... he said... he said don’t let anyone tell you that R-Ronnie’d want you to to to be strong, she’d want you to scream your head off if you want to, your dad’d be proud if if if if-if... if you told us all to go to hell, and... and and and and it felt like he was the only person who who who knew them at all that day, everyone said, said, said stupid things but not him, not-... not him and not Mr. Cilly, not-... not my Aunt Jo, not anybody, but he-”

Chris chokes on a sob and when Laken throws their arms around him he melts into it this time, crying against their shoulder, the two of them uncomfortably arched over the center console and the gear shift.

“It’s okay,” Laken whispers, running their fingers over the slowly growing fuzz of his hair. “It’s okay. Let it ride, Chris. It’s okay.”

“He, he, he was my dad’s b-b-best friend-... Why d-didn’t he, if he saw me, why wouldn’t he-... I s-see him all th-the the the time, why doesn’t he know who I am?”

“Maybe he’s like Akio,” Laken says, and feels him trembling under their touch. “Maybe he’s always thought you were dead.”

“I w-was,” Chris whispers “When I, I, I was Baldur. When I was training. When... when I... was good. I was dead.”

“Chris-”

“I was dead,” Chris says, and they kiss his head, helpless to think of anything else to do. “When my p-parents died, I died, too. Mr. Malley made m-me feel like I I I wasn’t. Why didn’t he kn-know me? Why didn’t a-anyone know I was alive?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

“Hurts,” Chris whispers. “Why, why, why didn’t anyone help me before she she she-... before I was-... why didn’t anyone help me?”

Laken’s own eyes burn, and they draw circles on his scalp with their fingertips. “I can’t answer that,” They say, low and soft. “I’m sorry. But you know you have people who can and will help you now.”

For a while, Chris’s only sounds are sobs, and Laken can only make soft soothing nonsense noises and feel like shit that it’s not enough.

“Ev, everyone knew she-she hated me,” Chris whimpers, and sounds younger than he ever has, and Laken wants to throw a punch or scream and they can’t do either, only sit in the car and glare at people who look in as they walk past. “Everyone.”

“Chris-”

“Everyone knew, why, why, why why why didn’t they stop her?”

Back in the coffeeshop, Sean and Cilly are in the midst of an argument about a baseball game that happened 30 years ago when his phone rings. He holds up one finger and picks it up, lifting it to his ear.

“I have a job for you,” Riley says, with his cheerful hint of brogue. Funny, to remember that this part of the family only came here a few decades ago. “It’s a job I know you’ll enjoy.”

“Watching Paul’s boy is my retirement gig,” Sean says amicably. “You know I don’t do the dangerous stuff any longer, Mr. Higgs.”

There’s a silence. “I’m going to do some looking into what you sent me. But in the meantime I need to give you a job, and you’re going to do it.”

“And why is that, Mr. Higgs?”

“Because you’re going to want to do this.”

“What is it, then?”

Another pause.

“I want you to find Joanne Botham.”

Sean thinks of the dour, angry woman who had ignored Tristan in his funeral suit, gathering mourners around her while she sobbed over Ronnie’s loss, Ronnie’s own son alone on a couch staring off into space until Sean himself had sat down and told him, don’t let ‘em say your mom’d be proud of you bein’ stoic today, kiddo. Ronnie’d want you to scream if you felt the urge.

The kid had looked at him like he’d been given water in the desert, a starving man offered a bowlful of broth. Mr. Malley?

People will say a lot of real stupid stuff to you today, Sean had said. His eyes had gone to Joanne Botham, and Ronnie’s sister’s icy glare when she looked at her own nephew had made his blood run cold with anger even then. Likely in the future, too. But you just remember Paul and Ronnie weren’t saints. And they’d never want you to be, either. I’m sorry for your loss, Tris. No one on God’s earth has loved their kid like yours loved you. Should’ve seen his face when he told us your mom was pregnant with you. Could’ve lit the world with all the sunshine there.

A clap on the back, a whispered thank you, and that had been the last day Sean Malley had ever seen Tristan Higgs alive.

Until, of course, Riley had told him there was a boy living in a pet liberation safehouse who looked remarkably like Paul. Until, of course, Riley had shared that he’d known Tristan Higgs was alive all along. Until, of course, Sean had been told he couldn’t make a move because WRU was protecting all the players who had stolen his friend’s kid.

Until... now.

“Mr. Higgs?” His voice drops, and Cilly sits up, alarmed at the sudden change in tone.

“You heard me. Find Joanne Botham. I have a feeling we are about to get the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

The phone goes dead on the other end, and Sean slowly sets it down, finishing his second cup of coffee in a gulp. Then he looks at Cilly, and starts to smile.

“Riley’s got work for us,” He says, and when Cilly’s eyebrows raise he doesn’t wait for him to ask for more. “Don’t worry. You’re going to like it. Finally get to do what we should have done ten fucking years ago.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

#whump #speak out arc #chris the strawberry blond romantic #emotional whump #grief tw #referenced parental death #referenced past whump of a minor #referenced murder #memory loss #memory recovery #recovering whumpee #caretaker and whumpee #hi made myself cry during chris's part towards the end wheeeee

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mythrilhusk · 4 years

Text

Despite Everything - Chapter 3

NOT RPF Featured Relationship (Only SFW): Puffy/Niki

(Ao3 Link) Words: 1,759 Last Chapter CW: violence, coercion

Next Chapter

Niki arrives home to her apartment after a harrowing day of working in a field where all her male coworkers talk over her constantly, barely notice her when she offers ideas, and then promptly take credit for said ideas. Sometimes she hates men as a whole concept.

She collapses onto her favorite beanbag and flicks on a show. Puffy sings in the shower, oblivious to Niki's arrival. Smiling, Niki hums along and relaxes to the tune.

Puffy emerges from the bathroom dripping wet and covered in a towel. She waves to Niki and retreats to the bedroom to change into her comfy jeans and the hoodie she stole from Niki. "I ordered takeout, there should be some left on the table!"

"Thanks, babe, you're amazing." Niki laughs and gets up, going to the kitchen.

Puffy's scroll lays innocuously on the table, open and blinking with seventy new messages. Niki avoids looking at it, not wanting to invade her girlfriend's privacy, and picks up a plate of pizza. "Puffy, you're pretty popular today!"

"Oh? Can you read them real quick and tell me what they say?"

Niki blushes. "Sure." She picks up the scroll awkwardly and taps through the apps to get to the messages. "Uh, it's all your superhero shit, Puffy, I don't know what any of this means."

"Really? I told them to call the other one if they need me... oh, it's dead again, dammit." Puffy storms to the kitchen with lightning in her smile. "Thanks, Niki, I'll take it." She skims through the pile of increasingly desperate calls for help. "Ugh, I'm sorry, babe, I have to go. Sam got in trouble with the law again. Eret's good, but he's no lawyer."

"Don't you have a legal representative?"

"Niki, I've told you, we're not backed by anybody. We're on our own. The officials see us as vigilantes, and yeah, that's kinda what we are."

The fact finally sinks in. "Ohhh!" Niki laughs with relief. "So your battles aren't staged?"

"No, babe. Real battles." Puffy grabs a slice of pizza. "I gotta go bail Sam out again, sorry."

"Let me come with." Niki decides. "I won't help you fight, but I'm a paralegal. I can help you with the officials."

"Really?" Puffy stares at her with stars in her eyes. "You'd do that for us?"

"For you, yes." Niki says firmly.

"Thank you, you will not regret this." Puffy stuffs the pizza in her mouth and grabs Niki's free hand.

Down at the city's holding facilities, Niki strides straight to the front desk. "I'm here to legally represent Awesamdude." She slams down her identification. "And this is Sam's employer, Puffy."

The bastard in a suit behind the desk gives Niki a bored, dismissive glance. "No visitors allowed." He drones. His nametag marks him as Sapnap.

"Sam has a right to legal counsel. I am here to provide that." Niki snaps. "Let us see him."

"What are you two, his sisters?" Sapnap laughs. "Run along. You'll see him again in five years or so."

Niki smiles sweetly at the guard, hiding her anger. Sam hasn't been convicted of anything yet, but the officials can legally postpone the trial and keep him captive for up to five years. "You wouldn't want to piss off the Nemesis corporate heads, would you?"

"Nemesis?? Haven't heard of'em." He shrugs. "You got anything to back that up?"

"Puffy?" Niki gestures her girlfriend forward with the bribe. "Sir Sapnap, we'd like to see our employee and make sure he hasn't been harmed. We at Nemesis take utmost pride in our marketing team."

"Oh?" Sapnap leans forward as Puffy transfers several thousand bullion credits to his account. "Ohh. That's an admirable missions statement, ladies. I'll see what we can do."

"We are going to visit Sam, now."

"Yep, he's back there." Sapnap waves them along. "I'll send the code to unlock his cell, but I'll need a bit more, uh, compensation for the paperwork to release him."

"Of course. We will take care of that in a few days. He could use a bit of discipline for allowing himself to be caught in the first place." Niki shushes Puffy's shocked little protest. "Good day, Sapnap."

Leading Puffy back towards the holding cells, Niki waits to speak again until she's out of ear-shot. "I'm sorry, Puffy, but we had to make it seem as though he's just an errant employee."

"It's fine, I was just startled. You're so cold in your business mode." Puffy laughs lightly.

Niki blushes. "I have to be, or nobody will take me seriously."

Puffy bumps her shoulder. "I take you seriously."

"You do. Thanks, babe." Niki bumps Puffy back.

Puffy gasps and rushes to one of the cells. "Sam!!" She cries. "What the hell did they do to you??"

The man in the cell smiles weakly, his lips and cheeks bruised, his clothes torn and muddy with blood and grime. "Hey, Puffy." He coughs. "I got in trouble."

"I see that, but how??"

"I shouldn't have gone after them alone." Sam groans and struggles to sit up. "I thought I could take them, but they were too strong, Puffy, they were too strong for me."

"Who??" Puffy snarls, vengeful fire blazing in her eyes.

"Pax Triumvirs."

"Damn Angels." Puffy growls. "How dare they?? I oughta whoop their asses!"

"It's fair, Puffy, I attacked them first." Sam laughs haltingly.

"They didn't have to beat you up so badly!!" Puffy cries. "Now we have to hire a healer!"

"I'm right here, Puffy." Niki crosses her arms.

"You said you didn't want to get involved. Let me respect that, babe."

"I am already involved. I just invented an entire corporation for you." Shrugging, Niki opens the cell. "Let me do this."

"Darn, does this mean I have to actually pay my team now?" Puffy laughs.

"Probably, yes." Niki kneels by Sam and places her hands over his chest. "This will hurt a lot."

She activates her magic and pours the healing fire out into his body. Sam gasps, gritting his teeth to hold back a yell. His head lolls back as he faints, but his wounds are all healed.

Niki rises and leaves the cell. Puffy stares at Sam's prone body, tears welling in her eyes. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine when he wakes up." Niki responds. "Let him sleep for now. Healing takes a lot of energy."

"Are you good?" Puffy turns to Niki. "You aren't going to collapse too, are you?"

"No, I'm good." Niki smiles reassuringly. "Just thirsty."

"Can I buy you a drink?" She says it like she's trying to flirt, but she's too worried to commit to a teasing tone.

"Sure." Niki takes Puffy's hand and leads her out of the facility, waving to Sapnap on the way out.

In a small indie bar, Niki and Puffy sit together in a corner booth. Puffy sighs over her bloody vodka. "Sam should know better than to mess with Angels."

"Is he a Spirit too?"

"Spirit of Dark, yeah. His boyfriend disappeared a year ago, and he's been recklessly hunting for him ever since. I don't know what I can do to keep him safe." Puffy takes a gulp of her drink.

"Who else do you work with?"

"Hmm. There's Jack, Spirit of Light. Oh yeah, he told you already. You just met Sam. Then there's Eret, who's Ice, and Foolish, who's Life." Puffy grins and shrugs. "And then there's me, the hot one."

"What are Angels?"

"They're like Patrons. You know how Patrons are aligned with a type of creature or being, yeah? Angels are aligned with a concept or ideal, and they're each chosen by a god, which gives them extra power. The one downside is they're always in their fae forms."

Niki stares at Puffy, slightly confused by some of the words coming from her girlfriend's mouth. "Gods aren't real." She finally manages to giggle.

"Niki, where the hell do you think our magic comes from?? Thin air??" Puffy cries. "Gods are probably the realest thing about this crazy world we're living in."

"Okay, okay. But what's a fae form?" Niki raises her hands with a placating smile.

"All us magic folk can transform to use more of our power." Puffy explains. "It usually takes a lot of focus and willpower to stay in your fae form for very long, so nobody ever does it for staged battles, but most of us Spirits can shift easily on command."

"Why would staying in your fae form be a downside, then?"

Puffy laughs. "Most Angels' forms are absolutely terrifying, Niki, unless they're under a glamour. None of us can take one Angel alone, much less three like Sam tried to do!"

"Huh. How'd they become Angels?"

"Generally? They break." Puffy spins her cup in her hand, then gulps it down. "They break, they die, a god chooses them, and voila, new Angel. Then they owe the god their life, so they're bound to serve. Probably some Angels pledge voluntarily, but most are broken and pieced back together. Like kintsugi."

"Oh. That does not sound pleasant."

"I mean, that's life, y'know." Puffy takes another fatalistic swig. "Us Spirits, we've at least got a choice to fight or not."

++++

Sapnap looks up as someone enters the holding facility past visitation hours. "Hey, you're not supposed- agh-" He chokes as an unseen power slams him against the wall.

"Where is Awesamdude?" The Lucid Spider's mandibles click and chirrup as the low, mockingly gentle voice permeates the air with menace.

"In- in cell eight!" Sapnap gasps. "Sir, please!"

"You never came for me."

"I couldn't, I couldn't find you, I'm sorry!" Sapnap pleads. The Lucid Spider drops him. He rubs his throat, gulping. "My pledge never expired, Dream. I live to serve you."

"Where are the others?"

"We lost- we lost Quackity. Bad turned against us. But George and Karl are still loyal to you, sir."

Dream shifts down to a humanoid form, his holographic vectors of neon green containing the death-white Wurm inside. His camo-shields activate to hide the painful neon behind drab black armor. "Take me to Sam."

"Yes, sir." Sapnap hastily goes back to the cells, trembling with confusion and terror of his lord's sudden return to life.

Sam glares at Dream and Sapnap as they approach. "You." He growls.

"Me." Dream laughs. "Hello, Sam. I'm going to give you one last chance, old friend. Are you going to be smart like Sapnap here, or should I kill you last after I rip your precious team to shreds?"

Sam drops his head meekly. "I'm yours to command, my lord."

Next Chapter

#violence cw #threats cw #captain puffy #niki nihachu #awesamdude #sapnap #dreamwastaken #magical warrior au #magical girl au #dream smp au #dream smp #rainbow arson

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g0ldengubler · 3 years

Text

Chapter 10 ~ Strawberry Avalanche

A/N: AAAAAAA hey besties i'm baaaaaack! honestly, i lost all motivation for a couple of months, especially because wattpad is getting censored. i was scared that this story was going to be taken down, but now i've decided to keep going. Thankfully, this series is also on here so if nauseous is taken down on wattpad it will be here safe and sound. Also shortening chapters has been a nice thought. I'm sorry this one sucks i'm kinda rusty and this is more of a filler/catch up, but we're back at it again boizzz! Also, thank you so much for over 900 followers! Really really crazy but i'm so glad you guys are enjoying my fics. And I'm really glad everyone enjoyed lunchtime! I didn't think it would get that much love as I thought that kink wasn't something others would be into so I am planning on writing more one shots with other kinks I have. Things are just about to get good in nauseous...ok anyways i love uuuuuu <3

Category: Angst (??...yeah sure we'll go with that lol)

CW: Talks of cases; talks of murder

Summary: It's time to go back to work, and oh boy are they in for a "treat"

Word Count: 1817

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every time your alarm rang, you quote Cinderella at it, groggily saying, "Oh, that clock. Old killjoy." You hate waking up early, as sleep was such a beautiful thing in your book. When you were asleep, you were at peace, as if everything that had happened that day whether good or bad just went away. You were free in your dreams, running around like a child in a field of lavender. You had that dream here and there before you met Spencer. When the feelings for him grew over the course of a week, you started getting that dream frequently instead of waking up thinking you didn't dream or remembering a weird one. He would show up as a shadowy figure on the other side of the field and you would run over to it until you woke up once the figure turned around.

After you two made it official, the blur of the figure disappeared and turned into him. You would run as if it was the speed of light towards him, and he would turn around in a lilac colored cardigan, barely hiding the huge grin on his face. Spencer would pick you up around your waist and lift you up as he spun you around. Right before you kissed, however, you woke up. You were into the meaning of dreams, so you thought that at the right time, the kiss would happen.

As you got ready for the day, you couldn't stop thinking about the past month. You remember meeting Spencer and how your heart skipped a beat when your eyes first met in the conference room. You remember getting drunk and high with the team and how your boss was pretty much the life of the party without really meaning to. You laughed to yourself as the thought of Spencer high on edibles at Rossi's came in. He ate a whole brownie before Garcia could give a warning and once it kicked in it was hard not to laugh at his goofiness as he would only talk about Star Trek the whole night. He could've had the whole pot of spaghetti his munchies were so bad.

Garcia crept into your brain again as you got in your car. That night, instead of Spencer coming in to clean you up, it was Garcia.

With a wet washcloth in hand, she stood by the door and saw you on her bed, the laughter and voices echoing down the hall and into the room. You tried to cover yourself but she waved her hand away.

"Sugar cakes, don't worry about it," she said, walking over and sitting in front of you on the side of the bed. In a comforting way, she put a hand on your leg, rubbing it gently, "I'd be mad if it was other people on my bed going at it like rabbits. But you two? I don't seem to feel any steam coming out of my ears."

"Are you sure?" You asked, embarrassed, "I'm so sorry, Garcia."

"I'm just thankful that boy genius got laid."

The two of you laughed as she handed you the cloth. You took it and began cleaning yourself up, trying to clean what fell out onto the bed. Once you were done, Garcia gave you some advil and some water as you gave her the cloth back.

"Are you feeling ok, hun?" She asked as you were sipping on your water.

"Yeah, just a bit sore but nothing I can't handle." You hand her the glass of water back and fixed your pillows so they'd help you sit up.

"Reid is a very kind and respectful guy, Y/N," she said as she softly rubbed your leg, "I've known him since Gideon brought him on the team, I know he wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

"I see that in him," you said, "When he's not ruining me he's a total sweetheart and always open to trying new things if he wants to. He's really special to me, Penelope. I've never met someone like him. He's probably the first guy to want me for everything else, like the sex is just a bonus. Men back home were never like that."

Garcia smiled as she got up, looking down at you before leaning down and kissing the top of your head. "I'm glad you're here, Y/N. You've been the last missing puzzle piece for our team since you first walked in the conference room." Then she left, probably to let you rest.

You were still for a few minutes before you decided to try and get up. Once you were able to stand, you walked slowly out of the bedroom and back to the living room, which felt like it took you years to get to. You saw Spencer sitting on the couch next to Morgan, taking a joint from his hands. You watch as he put it to his lips and inhaled, holding it in for a sec before exhaling a big cloud out. He coughed before taking it back to his lips and took a couple more, handing it over to Jj.

As you parked in the parking garage, you remembered the butterflies you felt when his eyes caught yours. Morgan had got up and helped you walk to the couch, where you lay down with your legs on Spencer's lap. That night was so magical, but now you're back to work, dreading the amount of files that would be piled on your desk.

When you got out of the elevator to the 6th floor, you walked in the bulpin thinking you'd see Spencer at his desk, but your smile faded when you didn't. You looked around the room until you turned all the way around to the conference room, seeing all your friends in the window. You quickly-but calmly-walked up the ramp and into the room with a smile on your face, yet it went away again once you felt the room, seeing all their stern or worried faces.

"Y/L/N," said Hotch, "please take a seat."

"Is everything alright?" You ask as you sit next to Spencer. He locks his arm around yours and takes your hand in his, kissing it, knowing it was a way of his to comfort you.

Hotch was silent for a moment before he spoke. "While we were on our vacation, new cases have come to us. These cases were ones we had already solved, however."

No one spoke as he explained the two copycat cases. One was based from The Fox, a case they solved years ago, but it wasn't exact. The fox was more known for killing big families but this copycat killed small families, ones with only children. The other was one you knew all too well. A few years ago, couples were left in trunks of cars, all cut up and stabbed. You studied this case when it happened, and wrote an outstanding paper on it for class.

"We now have a copycat on our hands. This investigation will be going along while we also work on other cases. If needed, protection will be put for our loved ones. That is all. So far there hasn't been one to go to, but myself and Jj will let you know if one comes in."

With that, we all slowly walked back to your desks. Thankfully, yours was right in front of Spencer's. A part of you felt safe no matter what scenery you were in. But you still felt worried. With not being on the team for much time, you were scared for your friends. Stuff like this was part of the job, but that didn't mean you couldn't be human.

One thing was lingering in your mind the whole day...Was there a deeper connection between the two copycat cases?

~~~

Later that night, you finished your work for the day and headed home. Both you and Spencer felt too tired to do something, so you both went your separate ways. When you got home, you threw your bag and keys to a chair and fell on your couch as your dogs attacked you with love and kisses. Taking your boots off, you took your phone out and looked through your delivery apps to see if anything sounded good, but you didn't feel that hungry as you saw all the delicious options.

Remembering you had some wine on the counter, you got up and poured yourself a glass. You got changed into crewneck sweater and sweatpants that had U of M written all over it. Putting your hair up in a high ponytail, you made your way back to the couch and went through your phone, catching up on text messages from your dad, looking through memes and videos.

After a bit of time has passed, you were on your third glass and were feeling very tipsy. You turned on your speaker and went through your the music on shuffle before stumbling upon a song from high school, Strawberry Avalanche by Owl City. You hadn't listen to it or his music in years, so you decided to keep it on for old times sake. As the song got to the chorus, you felt your tipsy brain taking over, getting up from the couch and dancing along. Your furry friends-as Garcia would say-joined you as you picked up Draco's paws and gently brought him up on his back legs, while Benedict barked and went around in little circles, his eyes never leaving you.

You went to sleep after your dance party, wanting the comfort of your own bed rather than the less comfortable couch. As your children climbed on and settled down, you tried to drift off right away, wanting to go back to your dream, but you couldn't stop thinking about the deeper connection between the two cases. That feeling was bothering you beyond belief, as if it was on the tip of your tongue or right under your nose. 'They're not just copycats,' you thought, 'so then what's the other connection, if there is one?'

You sat up, letting your pillows support your back. You grabbed your notebook from the side table and pen and started writing down what you remembered from what Hotch said. They are copycats from two they have already solved. One in Detroit, the other in their own backyard. It couldn't of been anniversaries because they didn't happen on their exact days, but it could be revenge on the team.

You went deeper into the cases to feel an epiphany run through your whole body. The Fox copy killed smaller families, but the wife was left last. And in the Detroit copy, it was only straight couples and the women were stabbed the most.

This unsub was going after girlfriends and wives.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fiction #cm #mgg

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stutterfly · 5 years

Text

Swipe Right 02 | Crosstalk | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst [later on], humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 10.2K

Last time on SR01: Namjoon introduced you to his friends and you find yourself absorbed into their little group rather quickly. While on your way to a Halloween party hosted at Jimin’s beautiful condo, you admit to your best friend Jennie that you have a crush on the sweet, shy, nerdy Jungkook. This just happens to be the same night he reveals his true nature: fuckboy. Now that’s just embarrassing, isn’t it?

Tags: Fuckboy Jungkook, let’s play some drinking games, dirty jokes, innuendos, friendship feels, jealousy, flashing, sexual tension, dumbBitch reader is drinking her dumbBitchjuice tonight, Tae makes things weird for half a sec, hint of foot fetish?, flirting with Hobi, flirting with Jin, embarrassedJoon who is also a mediator part time, tsundere softYoongi, Jimin is a traitorous snake who lives for the drama, Jungkook is like the kid pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes, tiniest glimpse at softboyeJK underneath

CW: excessive drinking, filthy language

Series: Activate your SIMCard Fic: Swipe Right (2/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost. masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

It's been months since the fiasco with Jungkook. You do your best to avoid any opportunity to hang with the group in a stationary setting when he’s present, but he’s kind of an unavoidable obstacle at this point. Pissed doesn’t begin to cover your feelings towards him and hurt doesn’t quite do it either. You’re angry about the things he did, the things he said, the way he covered up his true self, but most of all, you’re furious that your feelings didn’t just evaporate with the shift in his persona.

You thought time would heal everything, but so far it’s only turned you bitter about the whole thing. He still smells so fucking good. He’s still got a body like the weightlifting champ he is. He’s still dorky and funny in ways you wouldn’t expect a tool of his calibre to demonstrate. But he’s also a player and a crass asshole. A crasshole. Has he ever stayed with the same girl for more than a few days? You’d wager a confident sum of money that he never has.

Even though you hate his guts, your brain still finds ways to remind you that even if he’s a dick, he’s a dick you’re still attracted to. He’s the kind of dick you suck one night after getting drunk on cheap beer, and in the light of day you are disgusted with everything about it. So don’t get drunk and don’t suck that dick. Easy peasy, especially since fury overtakes you any time you look at him.

Pissed at him? That doesn’t cover it. Pissed at yourself? That’s closer, but it's still not quite all-encompassing. It’s some sort of culmination between the two that has you absolutely livid with the entire situation any time you think about it. He made you feel like a fool. You genuinely liked the person you thought he was, and he embarrassed you. That made not talking to him the way you did when you thought he had the emotional capacity of an actual decent human being hurt even more. At least you know now that he’s got more in common with a lifeless, unfeeling rock.

Not that he hasn’t tried to get you to talk to him. He has, texting you jokes, sending articles on upcoming game titles, spamming invites to a party on xbox live any time you log on, making a point to stand next to you, interrupting all of your conversations with an obnoxious “Hi, Princess!” and pestering you until you acknowledge him. Thankfully Namjoon has kept him from sitting next to you when you carpool, whether it be for dancing, dinner, karaoke, or any other external hangouts. Nevertheless, he still finds a way to annoy you despite the barriers in his path, and you are ready to claw his eyes out at a moment’s notice.

To keep your mind off how your last crush, well, crushed you and continues to let you down, you’ve been downloading and trying out a few different dating apps. You figure it’s time to find someone to connect with, and this is definitely how people do it these days, but your experience has been less than stellar. Jennie helped you set up your profiles and mentioned it in passing to Namjoon, mistakenly believing you told your other bestie about it. He's been teasing you about it every week since, but has been sworn to silence around the others under fear of you telling everyone about the time you caught him making out with a couch pillow.

He doesn't crash on your couch anymore.

Ever since Hoseok and Yoongi moved into the apartment down the hall, he's spent more evenings on their comfy sectional than you can count, but always after binging Kung Fu movies and bringing gratuitous amounts of takeout over your place. You’re grateful for the solitude so you can attempt to converse with strangers via text — maybe even flirt a little. Most of your conversations have become stagnant, but there’s been one guy texting you back and forth for a month now. You’re waiting on him to ask you out since you’re too much of a chickenshit to make the first move.

Now, as you walk down the hall with Namjoon, he elbows your ribs. “So... how’s your Jay-Jay?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Jason is fine.”

“He text you this week?” he asks, stopping in front of the apartment door.

Kind of.

“Mm-hmm!” Your reply is overly enthusiastic and it makes him suspicious.

“Did you text him first?” he questions, pausing before his knuckles touch the door.

Yes. But only because I saw a meme I could use as an excuse to talk to him.

“No.” The tone is questionable so you shake your head violently, scoffing. “I told him I wanted to meet in person.”

“Good. Good. Either he responds or he doesn’t,” he surmises, as if what he said isn’t the most obvious thing in the world. He snakes his hand around the back of your neck, massaging his fingers in circles over muscles you didn’t realize you’d tensed up. “And either way, I’m 100% certain you’re way too good for him. So don’t worry about it so much, okay?”

He snickers when you cast your gaze at the floor with a shy smile. “Joonie… That’s really sweet of you to say. I... Thank you.”

He shrugs off the gratitude with a smirk, trying to not let it get to his head. It’s true and you need to hear it. He clears his throat and knocks, nervously glancing over at you with his other hand still working small circles into the back of your neck. You’ll figure out soon enough that he’s also buttering you up since Jungkook is definitely home tonight, contrary to your belief that he certainly would not be.

The door swings open and a very sweaty, very shirtless Jungkook stands with his leg propped against the door, showcasing every glistening muscle of his body in the dim light. He dons an innocent smile, spreading his stance to push the door open wider and making sure you get a good look at the muscles tensing in his thigh. Your eyes helplessly scan the sculpted lines of his stomach, even as he purposefully flexes to draw the tiniest gasp from your lips. Pert brown nipples threaten to steal your attention, but you drag your eyes to the ink splattered across his skin instead. The myriad of tattoos that line the right side of his body tell a story you don’t have time or desire to explore, and you hate the way that your brain notes the curl of black ink disappearing beneath the band of his shorts and reappearing across his thigh.

“Princess, you made it.” He clicks his tongue with a devilish smirk as he watches you look him up and down with your mouth hanging stupidly agape.

Feeling your fight or flight response kick in, Namjoon’s fingers clamp down hard on your neck to keep you from bolting.

“What is he doing here?” you hiss in your friend’s direction, too distracted to fight against his iron grip on your neck.

“I live here,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms. “What? Didn’t you come here to see me?”

The anger on your tongue short circuits the connection your mouth has with your brain. Your jaw snaps shut and you roll your eyes, mirroring his action by folding your arms across your chest.

Jungkook seems amused by your irritation, offering a small laugh. “Client canceled so I decided to do a little exercise at home. Problem?”

He lets his hands drop to his sides, knowingly hooking his thumbs beneath the band of his shorts. Your eyebrow twitches and your jaw tightens. He knows the effect he has on women. He knows the effect he has on you. You’re determined to deny him the satisfaction so you simply stare him down. Douche.

Namjoon forces a dimpled smile to cut the tension. “So... I brought jenga! Do I smell pizza?”

You attempt to push past Jungkook, but he makes sure to bump a sweaty shoulder into you. “I’ve gotta shower. Wanna join?”

If you roll your eyes any harder, you might sever your optic nerve. “Don’t touch me.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Somehow you’ve been stuck with the worst jenga player in the world as your teammate. Namjoon may be a good friend and smart as fuck, but he is terrible at anything requiring coordination. He’s been the only one to knock the tower over. Four times now. That’s four times you’ve had to drink the disgusting gin offered in the form of a shot by Seokjin.

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” you declare, wiping the taste of evergreen trees from your mouth as you set the empty shot glass back down. “Jin, jump in for me?”

You sit back in your chair and pulling out your phone to check your messages.The man grimaces at your request. “Do I have to? The odds seem stacked against me. I can only compensate so much, you know.”

Hoseok and Yoongi snicker into their beers and Jimin laughs out loud as he reaches into the communal bowl of popcorn possessively wedged between his teammate and himself.

“I think these teams are very fair,” Taehyung says, licking the salt from his fingers as he sets the last of the blocks back into position.

“I feel like my luck is changing. Different teammate, different energy, come on,” Namjoon assures him, making the first move.

The block slides out without issue and he drops it on top of the tower with a grin. Hoseok hums a thoughtful sound as he pushes a middle block with the tip of his pointer until it falls onto the other side of the table.

“I’m not sure you’re paying enough attention to be the referee,” Jin pouts.

“Are you really so mad that she’s not looking at you?” Jimin teases with a giggle while making his move. “This is one game where you can’t use your face as a bargaining chip, Jin. It’s all skill.”

The older man scoffs, rolling his eyes as he takes a side block and wagging it in your direction. “How will you know if someone cheats if you’re looking at your phone the whole time, hmm?”

“I’ll know,” you mutter, not bothering to look up. “Besides. How do you cheat at jenga? You knock the tower over or you don’t. Team that knocks the tower over does the shots. Those are pretty simple rules.”

Seokjin grumbles something unintelligible underneath his breath in response. You ignore him as you reach for your bottle of spiked root beer, trying to figure out some clever joke that might impress Jason enough to respond to you. You rack your brain, furrowing your brow in contemplation as you stare at the blinking cursor and take a big swig.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch the flash of white and subconsciously spare a glance up. Your stomach flips like it’s trying to win a gymnastics competition and you wish you could press undo on the double take your eyes have just performed without prompt. Maybe he didn’t notice.

Jungkook pauses in the hall, adjusting the white cotton towel around his waist. He’s grinning at you like the cat that ate the canary as he slowly drags his fingers over the edges of the fabric, peeling it from its resting place on his hips. Of course he fucking noticed.

You force your eyes back to the safety of your phone screen just in time, barely missing the flash of his glossy ink-covered skin. When he realizes you’re not watching the show he’s putting on, he fastens the towel around his waist and walks into the light of the den. You swallow, feeling his eyes rake over your form as he passes the table with a loud sigh.

“All clean,” he announces in a singsong voice as he continues towards the kitchen.

You hate the way your jaw threatens to betray you by attempting to drop at the sight of the rippled muscles carved into his upper back and the thick line creased into the meat of his spine. Even with the broad artistic strokes of color swathed across his back in the shape of a phoenix spreading its red-orange wings wide, you can still see the definition of his form chiseled beneath it. You try not to lose yourself in the flawless details painted into his flesh and grind your teeth to keep your jaw wired shut.

Wet, tangled locks of hair fall into his face as he reaches into the refrigerator. When he stands up straight, he arches his back to stretch his chest towards the ceiling. He’s got a tiny jug of banana milk in his palm and he’s working on chugging it down.

He pauses and licks remnants of the cloudy liquid from his lips. “Thirsty. Relatable, right, Y/N?”

You scowl, tapping furiously on your keyboard. “Put some fucking clothes on.”

Jungkook throws his hands in the air in defeat as he casually wanders out of the room. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

Your eyes settle on the tower. Minutes pass and still it hasn’t fallen. Turn after turn around the table, the game has gone on far longer than anticipated. Namjoon is determined to not lose this time; it’s actually kind of impressive how careful he’s been. You’ve almost forgotten about Jungkook until he reappears, this time fully covered in black sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. The tension in the room is palpable. You’re afraid to even breathe in the direction of the wooden blocks precariously stacked on one another.

Hoseok is sweating as he prods the stack with his index finger, making a high-pitched whining sound as he tries to determine his next move. Jungkook wedges himself between Jin and Taehyung, forcing you to acknowledge his presence as he sits on the opposite side of the table and steals a fistful of popcorn.

After a few seconds, Hoseok sighs at Yoongi. “I give up. You do it. We’re a team. I’m gonna knock it over if you don’t,” he whines.

Yoongi rolls his eyes and quickly shoots his finger out at a random block. It flies across the table at Seokjin, causing him to dramatically duck out of the way just in time. The table erupts with laughter.

“Damn, that didn’t do it. I was hoping we could play cards now,” Yoongi mutters to himself.

“Hey, what are you doing? You almost hit me with that! You have to put that on top! Go get it!” Jin yells across the table, mind already heavily clouded with booze. At least he’s laughing so you know that heightened tone doesn’t indicate any serious animosity.

“It’s right next to you. Pick it up and give it to me,” Yoongi replies while leaning over the table, which causes the tower to immediately wobble. Hoseok dramatically gasps, bringing his hands to his mouth. Seokjin picks up the block and slides it across the surface as he gives you a pointed look.

"Isn't this cheating? Don't they forfeit since it was on Hobi’s turn?"

"They're technically a team.” You shrug.

"You are a terrible referee," he groans, rubbing his temple as Yoongi carelessly throws the piece on top.

Taehyung and Jimin fervently whisper to each other over their strategy before Taehyung reaches out for an easy-looking target. The slightest touch sends the blocks crashing down, causing the man to blink in disbelief.

“Time to drink up your handsome competitor. Gin served by Jin.” He snickers.

Jimin and Taehyung cringe as Jin slides two shot glasses full of the vile liquid towards them. They link elbows and tilt their heads back, downing the burning liquid in solidarity. Jimin seems unaffected while Taehyung’s face scrunches up and he coughs.

“It burns!” he sputters, clutching his chest. He walks into the kitchen, dragging his tongue across his palm as though it will remove the taste from his mouth.

“Thank god. I don’t think I could have stomached another,” Namjoon murmurs, rising to his feet. “Be right back.”

As soon as he heads off in the direction of the restroom, the others start cleaning up the mess of blocks scattered across the table and Yoongi begins shuffling a deck of cards. Jungkook takes the opportunity to slide into the empty seat beside you. You toss an annoyed glance his way in warning. “Can I help you, Jungkook?”

“You could if you weren’t so busy pretending like you don’t want to look at me.” His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek and he smiles innocently when you look up from your phone to glare daggers at him.

“You’re in Namjoon’s seat.”

He ignores your statement, peering over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your phone screen. “Who are you texting? Is it your hot friend?”

“She doesn’t want to bang you, dude,” you tell him in a flat tone, flicking the power button to hide the message.

“Oh, just like you?” he asks, unable to hide the amusement striking his features.

After years of practicing this song and dance with other women, he’s grown accustomed to everyone wanting a piece of this cookie. There’s no way you’re immune, especially after his performance on the ocarina a few months ago. He charmed you before you could sink your teeth into his neck and do the same to him, and now you're mad about it. That’s your category, right? Your spite is obviously a cover for your disappointment.

Unless it isn’t. His conviction wavers as your jaw tightens and you take a swig from the dark bottle on the table. People don’t get close unless they want to get fucked. Literally. But you are Joon’s ‘friend’ and you seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him, at least for a little while. Most people are good at faking the first time, but it’s been a while and you’re still here. What if you’re actually hanging around his friends for all the right reasons? What if you had something other than shallow intentions? What if he actually hurt your feelings? He sinks back in his seat, silently stewing in his assumptions.

You set your phone face down on the table, a forced manic smile settling on Yoongi. “What are we playing?”

The man spreads the cards face down over the table in a circle, placing a single shot in the center. “It’s called the circle of death. There are a bunch of ways to play so I’m just gonna pick my favorites.”

He gets up, taking the magnetic whiteboard off the refrigerator and furiously scribbling notes on its surface. You crane your neck to get a good read, but it’s still fairly challenging to make out his chicken scratch.

“There’s a lot you can pick up after hours at bartending school. I had fun playing this with the other people in my class but it’ll probably be even better with you guys.”

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ RULES:

A - Face

2 - You

3 - Me

4 - Floor

5 - Jive

6 - Forehead master

7 - Heaven

8 - Hate

9 - Rhyme

10 - Social

J - Never

Q - Eat

K - Rulemaker

Joker - Waterfall

Your eyebrows furrow at the words you can make out. “This seems complicated.”

Yoongi scoffs, setting the board on the counter and leaning it against the wall. “Trust me. It’s not as bad as it seems. Besides this will be right here in case you forget.”

“Does that say eat? Yoongi, what the fuck does that mean?” You tilt your head to the side and try to read the list in its entirety but still at a loss for what it means.

Hoseok scratches his head, equally as stumped by the list.

“I’ll go over the rules once everyone is back at the table. I have a feeling I’ll be repeating them enough once we start.”

You slump in your chair with a pout as you proceed to polish off your beverage. Namjoon returns and sees his spot has been taken.

"Kook," he warns, tapping his friend in the shoulder to try to get him to move over.

Namjoon isn't stupid in the slightest. He may lack common sense at times and he definitely is the clumsiest person in the room, but perception is his strength. What do you get when you add up the subtle glances, the nervous stutters, and shy smiles? Multiply that sum by the times you've tucked your hair behind your ear needlessly, gotten starry-eyed while talking, or claimed a seat nearby. Tallying your distracted behaviors yields a simple answer: a crush.

You don't have to say anything. You never have to say anything because you wear that shame so well. Even subtracting the stunt Jungkook pulled on Halloween and the distance you've put down since then, it's not enough to negate the total. You say you hate him, but those glances are still there. Pressing your lips tight to keep yourself from smiling has become your default defensive tactic. Playing with your hair quickly turns into tugging loose strands back into a ponytail. It’s almost painful to watch. He wonders if anyone else sees it for what it is because Jungkook sure doesn’t.

Staying out of it is tough because he knows both sides. But it’s not his place to spill the tea to either one of you. You’re both his friends and it’s hard not to feel like the mediator that he definitely doesn’t want to be. You’re adults. You can figure your shit out without him to take care of every little thing. Yeah, it would be easier just to do it all for you, but you’ll never learn that way and neither will he. However, that doesn’t mean he can’t drop some caution tape out every once in a while.

Jungkook digs his heels into the floor and huffs. “But I like this seat and you got up so it’s mine now.”

“Joonie, it’s fine.” You manage to keep the irritation out of your voice, talking over the man to your left like he’s not even there. “He’ll get bored eventually. Don’t feed the troll.”

Namjoon shakes his head and takes a seat on the opposite side of Jungkook, grumbling how you’re going to come crying to him later when Jungkook snaps your bra straps or some shit and his friend is gonna end up with a black eye but whatever not his problem. At least that’s the gist of what you get out of your friend’s griping. He may have a point, but you’re not going to acknowledge that. You’re busy looking at the plastic cup full of beer set down in front of you.

You crinkle your nose at Yoongi but he answers before you can ask. “Everyone is drinking the same thing. Even playing field. Not really fair if someone's got more alcohol in their drink."

You catch Taehyung's eyes across the table and mirror his disgusted expression, both of you sticking your tongue out at the liquid.

"Alright. There's only one rule you really need to be worried about in the beginning: my rule to keep you all from getting distracted. If you touch your phone, whoever catches you is allowed to send any message to any contact in it.”

Jungkook grins wickedly at you, noticing the way you drop your mobile device on the table and leave it where it lands face down. Yoongi goes over the rules one by one and gives an example of each being used. Everyone blinks at him stupidly once he gets to the Queen and delivers a deadpan explanation that whoever pulls that card has to eat it. None of you are drunk enough to believe him, so he scribbles the rule out on the whiteboard and writes a question mark instead. He sets the board back in place and continues with his explanation, looking at everyone expectantly.

He points at the board behind him, not bothering to look back at it. "This is here in case you forget what any of the cards mean, but we’ll go slow since there are eight of us.”

A full round around the table and you are all feeling pretty comfortable and giggly. Some of the more tame cards have made their way into the discard pile beside Yoongi.

Jin pulled an eight and made Tae drink until he said stop, which was hilarious and equally terrifying when you realized someone could do the same to you. Luckily the enemy beside you didn’t have the pleasure.

Taehyung pulls a King and tries to make a weird rule that any time a four is played and you’re all scrambling to the floor, the last one to touch the ground has to kiss the feet of the cardholder. When you collectively agree you are not doing that he huffs and makes a rule that for the rest of the game if you have to drink, you have to dirty talk your beer before taking a sip. This rule makes you determined not to lose any rounds.

Laughter erupts from the table when Yoongi calls his drink a filthy little slut before having to take a sip. Hobi is so thrilled when Yoongi pulls a five and starts dancing immediately after that he ended up cackling instead of focusing on the game. He’s less than thrilled about needing to drink after missing the opportunity to dance so he ends up glaring at his drink.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, you filthy bitch? You want me to put my hands around your throat, put my tongue on you and drink up? Alright then.” He coos a ridiculous sound at his cup and guffaws before taking a huge swig.

Jimin covers his eyes and laughs, downing the rest of his drink like it’s water without a thought of whether he was supposed to or not. He gets up to refill his cup as an excuse to hide the heat in his cheeks.

“Hobi’s upping the game. Woooooow.” Jin leans back in his chair, mouth agape with wonder before bursting into a squeaky laugh.

You gulp, hoping everyone is too distracted by their own laughter to notice the way your legs clamp together. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the actual. Fuck. Hobi. I gotta text Jennie. She’s not gonna believe this. No, don’t touch your phone. Don’t look at anyone. Just wait for your turn to pick a card.

Hobi pulls a three and has to drink again. “Ah. This slut wants more. Here we go, baby.”

You desperately scan the circle of facedown cards, a smile forcefully smattered on your features. You strain to reach the one you’re trying for. Hoseok slides it towards you with an innocent smile, as though those lips weren’t just spewing absolute filth. “I hope it’s a good one.”

Your eyes drop to the card as you flip it back on the table. Jack. You squint at the board, trying to figure out what “Never” means when Yoongi puts three fingers up.

“Alright, Y/N. This is Never Have I Ever. We all put our fingers up like this. You come up with something you’ve never done and say it out loud. If any of us have done those things,” he pauses and drops a finger so he only has two standing tall, “then we put them down. First one to have no fingers up has to drink.”

Oh no. What haven’t I done? What haven’t I done? The guys all expectantly wait for you to say something. You purse your lips as your mind blanks on every moment you’ve ever experienced.

“Never have I ever…” your mouth is dry. “I don’t know.”

Yoongi laughs. “Don’t think too hard. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy, but it does have to be true. It’s not fun otherwise. People have different goals. You can use it to learn or you can just try get as many people to drink as possible.”

Suddenly a lightbulb goes off in your head. They’re all men. “Never have I ever peed standing up.”

Everyone around the table puts a finger down. The mirth in Yoongi’s face becomes strained and his eyelids flutter as he sighs. “Careful. There are a lot of cards left and you’re about to make yourself a target.”

You press on anyway. “Never have I ever had sex with a woman.”

A few of them tut in annoyance as they’re all left with one finger up.

Jungkook pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek. “You’re not living your best life then.”

You furrow your brow while trying to think of another easy thing that could get them all to lose. Tapping your fingers on the table, you make an effort to focus on each one’s concentrated gaze. It comes to you and you filter your bottom lip through your teeth for a moment. Have they...? You’d bet they all have.

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you. “Come on, Princess. Just say whatever it is.”

“Never have I ever been to a strip club.”

There’s a collective sigh as their hands drop and they stare at their drinks. You grin like a maniac, taking in the garbled sounds of each one dirty-talking their drinks like it’s a goddamn orgy.

Jungkook looks over at you, making sure he has your attention as he offers an amused smile. “You really haven’t been to Wings?”

You’ve seen signs for that club, hating to admit the ads garnered intrigue. It’s split down the middle, supposedly one side angelic and the other hellish. “Nope. Drink up, Jungkook.”

He maintains eye contact with you, bringing his drink to his lips. “Maybe I can get you to come. Will you give me permission to taste you?” He tilts his head back and makes a show of closing his eyes and slowly slurping his beverage. You narrow your eyes at him before he puts the cup back down. “Delicious. My turn.”

He flips the card. “King. Ooh. My rule. Starting now, every time you say something you have to start with the word hashtag and end with dotcom.”

“Jungkook, that’s so stupid,” you say without thinking.

“Hashtag, drink up Princess, dotcom,” he replies with an impish grin.

You bite your lip and stare at your drink. How could you be so careless? They all lean in, waiting for the words to leave your mouth. You hold your hands up in a T-shape. “Hold up. Time out. Pause the game. I need some clarity. Do I have to say hashtag dotcom thing WHILE talking to my drink?”

Namjoon looses it, laughing like a maniac. “Hashtag, I think you fucking do Y/N dotcom.”

Jungkook just smiles, crossing his arms and waiting for you to continue. God, you fucking hate him. This is the dumbest rule you’ve ever heard. It’s going to get old fast. Still, you stare down at your cup. “Hashtag… Uh… I’m gonna... s-slurp your fluids out now, dotcom?”

Jungkook’s obnoxious laugh is piercing your eardrums as you down a few big gulps. The rest of the table roars with laughter and heat burns your cheeks, not daring to make eye contact with any one of them.

“W-What was that?!” Jin yells. “You sound like an alien! Can I give you some pointers, please?”

“Hashtag, Seokjin! You forgot dotcom!” Jungkook says, pointing to his friend’s cup.

Jin curses under his breath and stares at his cup. “Hashtag, this is how you do it, Y/N.” He focuses on his cup without missing a beat, raising it up to the sky longingly like he’s about to start serenading it. “You wish you could hear me say this every day, don’t you? You love how my mouth feels on you. I can tell by the way you’re dripping for me, my lovely. Dot. Com.” He makes a point to run his tongue along the rim of his cup and takes a sip.

Fuck these guys. But also… Fuck? These guys? You’re one dirty comment away from soaking your panties, but they don’t need to know that.

“Hashtag I’m sorry I’m not a slut like the rest of you. Also Seokjin, you’re a bitch, dotcom,” you grumble, gripping your knees to keep your hands off your phone. Jennie will absolutely scream once you tell her about this night. She’ll be sad she missed out.

Jin’s eyes go wide as though you smacked his ass in front of the world, a smile is taking over the corners of his mouth. “Hashtag, stop trying to flirt with me, dotcom.”

You roll your eyes but you can’t help the shy smile that creeps in. Jungkook sits up straight and sighs dramatically. “Hashtag let’s keep going so we can get the rest of this bread dotcom.”

Jimin pulls a king and has made the rule that hashtag dotcom is abolished. It comes as a relief when you’re a few more rounds in, and everyone has already consumed way more booze than expected because of Jungkook’s rule. An uneventful round of drinking passes before Seokjin pulls the last King out.

“A rule, hmm? Alright. When you ask someone to drink you have to hold their chin, stare longingly into their eyes, and ask them to drink.” He demonstrates, holding Taehyung’s jaw in his fingers. “Like this. Will you please drink for me, my dear friend, Taehyung?”

Tae bashfully giggles waving his hand away. “You’re too much sometimes. I think you need a girlfriend.”

Since it only applies for certain cards, you end up forgetting about it as multiple turns come and go without utilizing it. Your turn rises again and you slide the eight face up across the table. After kicking your chair with his feet for the millionth time, you completely forget about the rule Jin made and pick based on your irritation. Eight is hate indeed.

“Jungkook, go until I say stop.”

The words feel satisfying as they leave your mouth, but Namjoon grimaces, anxiously baring both sets of teeth.

“Uh… You gotta…” Namjoon taps his cheeks twice with his fingertips.

Horror replaces that smug satisfaction in the pit of your stomach and it churns a sickness deep inside that pit.

Jungkook cocks his head at you. “You really wanna put your hands on me that badly, huh?”

You exhale loudly and tightly grip his chin with sweaty, hot fingers. Your eyes threaten to burn holes into his. “Jungkook, go until I say stop.”

He’s stunned into silence for a second, adam’s apple bobbing ever so slightly. He blinks at you a couple times before regaining his composure. Who knew princesses can breathe fire? Grabbing his cup, he grins and chuckles an amused sound even as you’re tearing yourself from him.

“Don’t worry I can go all night when you taste so good, baby,” he says, tilting his head back as he drinks.

You keep an eye on his cup, watching the liquid slowly disappear. You have to be careful not to let him finish, but you kind of want him to suffer a little bit. Even though he drinks like a fish, he’s still not on Jimin’s level. This has to be affecting him somehow. He watches you through an annoyed side-eye when you don’t say a word, not allowed to stop until you say so or until he finishes his drink. Your phone chooses this exact moment to vibrate a long sound against the table and your concentrated gaze wanders for a second too long, allowing him to gulp down the remnants of his drink.

Jungkook slams his empty cup down in time for you to look back at him in horror before looking at your own full cup. The room fills with the sound of everyone “ooooh-ing” like this is the sixth grade. With a heavy sigh, you bring your cup to your lips.

“I was distracted. I would have said stop.”

Jungkook leans his elbow on the table and rests his head on a folded palm. His smile tells you he’s ready to dish it back. “Mmm-hmm. Go on. Oh… Wait.”

He sits up, cupping your jaw in his hands so lightly, like it could disintegrate at the slightest touch. He leans his head back slightly, soft eyes imploring you to move closer. He slides his fingers up your jawline, nestling them behind your ears like he’s about to draw you to his lips. “Will you be good and drink that for me until I ask you to stop?”

Jin scoffs. “Wow. Look at this guy.”

The others hold back their snickers. Your eyebrow twitches, smacking his hands away from you. Instead you focus on the cup in your sweaty palms.

“I can’t wait to feel you… dripping from my mouth,” you whisper to your cup, trying to redeem yourself for earlier and doing your best not to think about how fucking good it felt having Jungkook’s hands wrapped around the sides of your face. You don’t spare a look at any of them as you tilt your head back and start gulping the liquid down.

“Much better,” Yoongi says with a smirk, but you don’t hear him over the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Namjoon smacks his hand to his forehead. “Yeah... I’m gonna need you to dial it back just a bit. I still have to see you at work.”

Jin pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “Ah, maybe our Zelda isn’t so bad at this after all.”

Jimin, Taehyung and Hobi all have their elbows on the table, cheeks in their palms as they watch your throat make its swallowing motions. They simultaneously grunt differing words of affirmation. About three quarters through, Jungkook puts his hand on the bottom of your cup.

“Stop.”

Mercy? From Jungkook? You don’t believe it, but you’ve been struggling so you’re kind of grateful. Just as you’re about to put the cup down, he taps the bottom of it, forcing liquid to splash upwards onto your chin. You slap his hand away as he cackles and you wipe your lips.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.”

“What time, sweetheart?” He grins when you glare at him.

“Just pick your fucking card before I strangle you.”

“Kinky. You know, I might let you if you asked nicely.”

You get the pitcher of beer from the fridge and start refilling everyone’s cups. He pulls a card that has him whispering dirty words into the rim of his empty cup, holding it out for you to fill. At least most of the cards seem to be gone now. You hate to admit you’re feeling a bit dizzy and out of sorts, but you reason that it’s just a few more rounds, so maybe you just sip on water after this game is over.

Just as you get back to your seat, Namjoon throws a sheepish grin your way. “Joker.”

“There’s only one of these,” Yoonngi begins, looking around the room to make sure he has everyone’s attention. “Waterfall is when everyone starts drinking and you can’t stop until the person to your right stops. Namjoon can stop whenever he wants, but Jin has to wait until he’s done. Then Taehyung waits until Jin is done. Make sense?”

Normally the waterfall card is played in the opposite direction, but there’s so much tension between you and Jungkook tonight and he’s so used to his friend getting his way with women that he can’t help wanting to give you the edge on him. Everyone nods. The realization dawns on everyone that before this can happen, they all have to do two things per the rules.

One after another the guys ask the person to their left to drink while gripping their chins. It would be a fairly intimate scene if people weren’t giggling every three seconds. Still, your heart damn near skips a beat when Hobi’s slender fingers curl under your jaw, drunkenly pulling you closer to his face than you’ve ever dared to get. Heat builds in your stomach and travels up your chest, spreading across your back and prickling your neck. You hope it doesn’t move into your cheeks.

“You gonna take this drink, Y/N?” he aks, unable to hold the giggles in as he wags your head back and forth in his steady hands.

Oh… He’s fucking gone, isn’t he? “For you? Maybe,” you flirt, rubbing your shoulder against his as you turn away.

Jungkook sits up straight, muscles tensing as you twist your body towards him. Suddenly, he looks a lot bigger than you remember. Is he puffing out his chest? You wilt under his irritated stare but are determined not to let it show. You slip your fingers underneath his chin, just barely registering the stubble there. Your slow blink hides the flutter of your eyelashes, alcohol clouding your brain with desire. But damn if the room isn’t still spinning. He flashes you boyish grin when you clap your palm to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Yes?”

“Drink up, buttercup,” you giggle, pinching your fingers closed beneath his jaw.

A choked laugh escapes him. “You should sit this one out. At this rate, you’ll be passed out with your face on the toilet seat in an hour.”

You spin back to your drink with fury in your eyes; if there’s anything you hate more than Jungkook, it’s being told what to do. Especially by Jungkook. I’ll show you, asshole.

Everyone turns to their cups and mutters a few dirty words before Namjoon begins the circle of drinking. One by one the cups come down, everyone seemingly grateful for the person before them showing at least some kind of mercy. You slow your gulping when you realize Jimin is dragging it out in an attempt to annoy Yoongi. Both of them still seem surprisingly sober for the amount they’ve ingested. Maybe they don’t wear their intoxication as easily as the rest of you. Hobi exchanges a worried glance at you, trying to not let it slip that he’s only pretending to down his beverage, but you can tell by the steady level of the liquid in his cup that he’s pretty much ready to tap out.

As soon as Jimin finally pulls his cup back from his lips, Yoongi stops, immediately followed by Hobi. Yoongi is keenly aware of his roommate’s inability to hold down liquor in large quantities. He doesn’t fare much better with beer. Saving his friend means you can be saved too. He looks at you, raising his eyebrows in warning. You spare a fleeting glance in his direction, but it’s long enough to catch his message loud and clear: Don’t be an idiot, Y/N. Don’t go overboard.

But you turn your attention to Jungkook, who is still effortlessly allowing his beverage to slither down his throat. You gulp in segments, a commendable attempt to keep yourself going. Even for all your efforts, booze spills from the corners of your mouth and leaves cold sloppy trails down your neck as you watch Jungkook. He’s not even struggling. Fuck. You finally give up, allowing the cup to smack down on the table with a messy splash.

He keeps going just to spite you, polishing off his drink with a smack of his lips and a satisfied sigh. He rises from his seat, patting your shoulder as he gets himself more to consume. “It’s cute how hard you tried.”

The final round passes and you are ready to strangle Jungkook for the way he keeps knocking his knees against yours. It’s gotten to the point where you’ve moved your chair so close to Hobi’s that he’s put his arm around you, thinking you are just as sleepy as he is. Truth be told you kind of are. The room is a little too spinny for your liking, but you can’t seem to persuade your brain to make your legs get up and get yourself a glass of water.

“You want to nap too?” he whispers, rubbing the eyes he can hardly keep open. “Come here. Let’s sleep together.”

The innocent words make your stomach spin in place but you don’t have time to ruminate on them. Jungkook hooks his ankle around your chair and jerks it back towards him. Furious eyes flicker on him in warning just as Hobi’s cheek slumps over your shoulder and draws your attention away. Luckily Yoongi springs into action to keep his friend from falling any further into your personal space than he already has.

“Okay, Hobi. We get it. You need to sleep,” he chuckles, cradling his friend’s arm around his shoulder as he helps him to his feet.

Hoseok weakly grumbles a sound of acknowledgement as they shuffle down the hall into what you assume is a guest room. Their apartment is bigger than any you’ve seen so you find yourself wondering just how many guest rooms they could possibly have. Then you remind yourself that it doesn’t matter because you are definitely not staying because getting an uber is always an option.

When Yoongi returns alone, people have started migrating into the living room. Jungkook and Jin are still seated, heatedly talking about some game nearby, but you’ve elected to ignore them in favor of checking your messages. Jason has sent you a few messages that have piqued your interest, including one finally asking you on a date. Does ignoring guys really fucking work? Was Namjoon right about something in his life? You don’t want to believe it.

The words in Jason’s message blur together, despite how hard you’re concentrating on them. You’d told him you were out with friends. He must have known you’d be relatively unavailable so maybe it’s okay that you’re in no shape to formulate a coherent response. Still you stare at the keyboard, jumping when an arm reaches over you to place a glass of water on the table for you.

You blink a few times at Yoongi, who simply whispers a gruff “drink” before grabbing the shot left in the center of the table and downing it as he joins the majority of his friends in the other room. Jungkook looks over at you, eyes dropping to your open conversation when you absentmindedly set your phone down. You take the cold glass in both hands and narrow your eyes in Yoongi’s direction as you swallow down a good portion of the liquid.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

It’s been an hour and if you’re honest you’ve just barely teetered back into the moderately drunk category. Yoongi had offered to take you home when he was getting ready to leave since he was already chauffeuring Namjoon. At the time you declined because you were certain that your natural predisposition to motion sickness would be amplified by the liquor in your system. You didn’t want to make Yoongi’s new car smell like puke. Namjoon has this habit of texting when he’s worried. Even after he left you’d been going back and forth about the night. Honestly it’s kind of helping keep you from passing out and you’re reminded how grateful you are for his friendship.

Sitting on the couch next to Jimin may have also influenced your decision since the man literally smells how vacations feel — and god do you need to relax. He’s also acted as a barrier between you and Jungkook, who has his legs stretched out across the cushions to Jimin’s right. Jungkook has been engrossed in his phone since you left the table, opting out of switching off with Taehyung when he dies in-game. You’re kind of thankful for it. Maybe he’s finally settled down for the night. Does he get more polite with drowsiness?

Jimin smiles softly at you, his arms draped over the back of the couch. The pair of you have been quietly conversing and giggling over the platformer Seokjin and Taehyung have been playing. Jimin’s face still looks a little flush with alcohol, but he only just finished his last beverage for the night. How the hell can someone so tiny pack away so much liquor? You hold in a shiver as his fingertips playfully dance along your shoulder, trying not to let on how the action affects you. His harmless flirting only bolsters confidence hiding in the depths of your mind and you stretch your arms up with a yawn and lean against him, knowingly giving him a better view of the cleavage poking out from beneath the v-cut of your shirt.

Jimin allows a devilish smile to curl at his lips as his fingers walk down your arm. He puts both hands back on the couch, like you’d made the move unprompted by his touching. “Hmm. You’re pretty bold, aren’t you?” His whisper is low and breathy, so quiet you almost miss it. What a tease.

“Hey. Jimin. Come here.”

The unusually quiet Jungkook knocks his foot against his friends knee, which pushes Jimin’s thigh up against yours. You softly sigh at the contact and the subsequent loss when Jungkook sits up and Jimin apologetically scoots away. You plant an elbow on the armrest beside you and prop your cheek up on your palm. Seokjin is carrying Taehyung through this level it seems.

“Do you think I should tap that?” The words are loud enough to distract you so you can’t help but turn your head in their direction.

“I think she might be out of your league,” Jimin giggles. “Besides she’s older than you. I thought that bothered you?”

“Oh. No way. I love it. When they have more experience I don’t have to work as hard,” he replies with a lofty sigh.

“Are you sure about that in this case? You’re very presumptuous.”

Your blood heats up the back of your neck. Why are men so disgusting? You grit your teeth, unable to hold in the sound of disgust that makes its way through them.

Jungkook’s head snaps up and he locks eyes with you. There’s something smug about his expression, like he’s stupidly proud of pulling that reaction from you. “Aw, are you feeling left out, princess? Here, see for yourself. Don’t you think she’s pretty?”

When he flips his screen around your own profile is staring back at you. Straightening your spine and reaching across Jimin’s lap for him, you hiss, “Jungkook, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Why?” He tilts his head to one side, feigning confusion and looks at the profile again. “I think she’s pretty hot.”

“If you match with me, I will not swipe right on you. You know that, right? So this whole thing is pointless,” you reason, more for yourself than the two men beside you. “You’re not gonna get to me. It’s not gonna fucking work, Jungkook.”

Jimin’s shoulders tremble with soft, mellifluous laughter that spills from his lips as he takes in the exchange. It’s apparent that Jungkook has already gotten under your skin. Denying it is only making you angrier.

“Fine. Fine. It’s gone now, see,” Jungkook says, briefly flashing you the home screen of his phone before putting it away. The image of that big tiddy anime girl behind all those icons is going to haunt your dreams; you can feel it.

You get up to get yourself more water. “I hate you so much.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

It’s late. Seokjin left a few minutes ago and Jimin rubs his eyes, unsure what to do. The selfish part of his brain tells him he should claim the other guest room. The horny part of his brain tells him he should suggest you share with him. The exhausted part of his brain tells him to just pass out in Taehyung’s bed and let him figure it out.

“You’re welcome to stay, too. We have room for you,” Taehyung says with a kind smile. “There’s another guest room.”

You still don’t feel well enough to drive or sit in a cab. You sit with your hands folded in your lap, pondering your shitty life choices. You’ve become pretty good friends, but a sleepover seems a bit strange without your bestie Namjoon to buffer out all of the awkward moments.

You smile as sweetly as you can manage, your voice small and borderline whiny in its need for sleep. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I don’t want to be a bother. Thank you, Taehyung.”

The man rolls his eyes. “I won’t allow you to sleep on a couch when we have beds.”

“Your couch is comfier than my actual bed,” you joke, patting the plush cushions on either side of you.

Jungkook walks in, shirtless and scrubbing a toothbrush furiously in his mouth. He tries to speak but it’s unintelligible, so he turns back around to finish up.

“It’s really okay. I should stay up and finish my water anyway and I don’t want to keep you guys up. I drank a little too much.”

“No shit,” Jungkook sighs as he rounds the corner and leans against the wall. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay up with you, Princess.”

Taehyung flashes his friend a pointed look and opens his mouth to speak, but closes it when Jungkook continues.

“You guys go on. I’ll make sure she drinks up her water and gets to bed.”

You glare at him as Taehyung moves in to whisper something to him, but you lose focus as Jimin pulls you into a tight hug that you can’t help but return.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he mumbles into the fabric of your hoodie. “I’m glad you’re a part of our family.”

You squeeze his shoulder before he shuffles down the hall and disappears into the bathroom. “Goodnight, Y/N!”

Taehyung offers a boxy smile and a small wave, demeanor changed after his side conversation with Jungkook. “Don’t take off without having breakfast. Seokjin will come back and make something tasty. Also I put your keys in my studio so good luck finding them if you try.”

You half laugh, half scoff. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. ‘Night.”

“Goodnight,” he says, passing Jungkook a tight lipped smile on his way down the hall.

Jungkook waits until he hears the door close before he speaks and for the first time since you met him, his tone borderlines concerned. “Be honest with me. How sick are you right now?”

Your throat swallows down a thick mass of air. “I’m fine.”

“Tch. Okay, Princess,” he scoffs in disbelief, taking slow steps towards you with his hands buried in the pockets of his black sweatpants. “Do you need a bucket?”

“No.” You drink down your water, trying to focus on anything but the way your body is producing enough sweat to make you want to discard your hoodie as soon as he leaves you alone.

A door opens down the hall and Jimin shuffles out before disappearing into another room. The quiet click of the door closing causes Jungkook to sigh.

Spinning. The room is spinning again. You hold the cold glass in your hands like it’s your lifeline, shut your eyes and throw your head back to rest it against the couch. You don’t notice when he leaves, but you definitely notice the cold cloth pressed to your forehead when he returns.

“Do you want comfier clothes?” he quietly asks, voice bereft of any humor as he sinks into the cushion beside you.

You open your eyes and glare at him like this is some prank he’s playing on you but you’re not sure how. “No.”

He rolls his eyes. “Suit yourself. I get hella hot when I’m drunk off my ass. Figured I’d ask.”

“I’m not...” you begin, trying to bring your head to rise. It feels heavy and plops back down on the seat.

“You’re drunk,” he states plainly. “And miserable. So drink up the rest of the water and I’ll show you to the guest room. It’ll be embarrassing if any of my friends wake up to you looking so pathetic. Come on.”

He helps you bring the cup to your lips and tilts your head forward enough to safely consume the rest of the water in your glass.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“If you think this is what nice guys are like, I feel bad for you.” He puts the glass down in the kitchen sink, briefly rinsing it.

“Jungkook,” you whine, an exasperated sigh passing your lips with his name.

“What? Your judgement of character is way outta whack. It’s just sad,” he explains, crossing the room while rubbing fresh lotion up his arms. Washing dishes makes his skin feel itchy.

“Alright. Come on. Up.” He waves his arms lets them weakly smack his thighs when you don’t move.

A whiff of sweet peaches and soft jasmine pervades your nostrils. Why does he have to smell so fucking good? He removes the cool cloth from your forehead, earning a whine from you.

“You’ll get a new one when you get in bed. I can carry you, if that’s easier.”

“Tell me why you’re doing this. I don’t get it. What do you want?”

“I want to go to sleep so I can be lazy tomorrow and do nothing but play video games.” When you don’t budge he sighs and sits down beside you again. “And... because... you’re Namjoon’s friend and he asked us to look out for you... And now you’re all of my friends’ friend… And I guess that makes you my responsibility.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t expecting you to just decide you’re gonna be nice out of the blue,” you weakly smirk and let your head roll to the side so you can look at him. “Should have known it was Namjoon.

He hums an amused sound. “Yeah. Now are you going to let me get you in bed?”

You’re able to force your head up at that. “I can get myself in bed just fine thanks.”

He laughs. “Your loss.”

You stand on unsteady legs. “Where am I going?”

Jungkook grins, entertained by your lack of coordination. “That’s a good question. Where are you going, Princess?”

You stumble a bit, reaching out to steady yourself with a wall that is definitely too far to grab. Long, tattooed fingers grip your shoulders in an instant. The heat of his massive chest presses against your shoulder blades. Even through your layers of clothing you can feel how hot his skin burns and it makes you shiver, despite the way you’re soaked with sweat.

“Don’t make me ask you for help,” you plead. “Please don’t.”

“Do you want me to pretend like you didn’t beg for it, too?” he whispers, curling a muscular bicep around your back and guiding you down the hall. As he passes the thermostat, he makes a point to lower the temperature a few degrees. Jimin, Hobi, and Tae will survive. But then again, he’s not worried about them at all, is he?

“Haven’t you embarrassed me enough?” You voice cracks and you’re barely managing to hold back the tears threatening to spill out.

He doesn’t say a word as you cling to the strength of his body, looping your arms around his neck and waist as though he isn’t the last person in the world you want to tangle yourself in. He pushes the door to his room open with his shoulder, making sure you get across the threshold okay before helping you awkwardly waddle over to the unmade bed. You don’t seem to notice, and if you do, you definitely don’t comment.

Your hoodie is falling from your shoulders as you climb onto the mattress. Jungkook grabs the fabric and slings it over his shoulder. You’ve landed at a weird angle across the pillows and show no signs of correcting your position so he moves the pillows beneath your head to comfortably accommodate you. You slowly blink at him, but you’re not seeing him. Silent tears rolling down your cheeks as he grabs the thinnest sheet on his bed and pulls it over your form up to your shoulders. He chooses to ignore the way you quickly swipe them away and instead goes to get the cold towel he promised.

Standing in the sink with ice cold water running over the cloth in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into the air around him, knowing no one will ever hear it.

When he returns he waits a moment, looking for the steady rise and fall of your chest. He smooths the hair from your face before pressing the cold cloth against your sweaty forehead, turning your head to the side just in case your body decides it isn’t quite ready to rest. He lightly pats your head a couple times and leaves the room, delicately closing the door behind him.

As he makes the journey back to the couch, he feeds his arms through the sleeves of your hoodie. He settles down on the couch, feeling the warmth of the space you’d been occupying all night beneath his head. Pulling down the blanket from atop the back of the couch, he brings his knees to his chest. He bunches the soft, excess material of your hoodie in his palms and turns his head into the fabric, allowing himself a subtle inhale.

Why do you have to smell so fucking good?

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